


from the ground up

by solar_celeste



Series: we’ll build this love [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Adoption, Father Figures, Father-Son Relationship, Fatherhood, Foster Care, He's 13, He's 4, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kid Harley Keener, Kid Peter Parker, Mentors, More characters to be added, Nightmares, Parent Tony Stark, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, Protective Tony Stark, Rape Recovery, Sick Characters, Toddler Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Harley Keener’s Parental Figure, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark is Good With Kids, for some chapters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-05-20 10:28:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 31,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19374865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solar_celeste/pseuds/solar_celeste
Summary: (Previously titled: I’ll Treat You Better)“This here is an engine for a scooter I built out of old phone and computer parts. Here’s a teddy bear with a voice recorded message and a simulated heartbeat. This is an old toy car I suped up to drive by voice command, and that’s a solar powered potato gun.” He stopped, looking up at Tony with awaiting and wide eyes.“That’s cool kid the voice to drive- wait, did you say a solar powered potato gun?”“Yup! With it running on solar energy, I get a faster average firing rate than if I were to design it to shoot the potato’s manually.” The kids still smiling, all confidence and prowess. Tony blinks.“A solar powered potato gun.” He repeats. “Well that’s a new one.” He picks up the plastic car. “This car though, this could get you somewhere, kid.” He says.***Or Tony's inability to get his mind off this Harley kid leads him down a steep road of life altering events. Oh yeah, and Tony suddenly has two very small and very impressionable children.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic came to me at 3 one morning sooooo: here
> 
> Also:  
> \- This takes place about two years after Iron Man I  
> \- Harley and Tony hadn't met before the convention 
> 
> I hope to update weekly, emphasis on hope ;)

The Potato Gun Kid. 

 

That had been Tony’s memory of the boy, a sandy haired kid shrouded by darkness, sitting in a cluster of tools and bolts. Because, for a while, it was only ever nighttime whenever Tony pictured him. 

 

There was something about that kid, maybe it how well he knew his tools or, perhaps it was the fact that he  _ won  _ the competition, even though he was the youngest in the group but Tony couldn’t get him out of his mind. Wherever he turned, he thought he saw the kid from the fundraiser. It was ridiculous, and probably unhealthy, but no matter what he tried there seemed to be nothing Tony could do to make the boy disappear. Every meeting, conference, gathering, movie night- whatever- there the kid was.

 

It was infuriating.

 

Two years went by and Tony did nothing about it, finding that, with the more time that passed, the more the kid seemed to fade into the background. He wasn’t disappearing, more, blending. Like Tony was getting used to his constant appearance, his consistent lingering. It became a part of his daily that he could easily shrug off, even ignore if he put the effort in. 

 

That was the case, at least until the third year. 

 

The kid came back with a vengeance, haunting not only the man’s daytime activities but also his dreams at night. Over and over again he would relive the day at the expo, children bustling around him as they fought for an opportunity to meet Tony-freaking-Stark. his conversation with the one lucky boy who did. Awarding said boy the first place prize and then, simply leaving. Like he had that night.

 

He didn’t understand why his brain was wasting the few precious hours of sleep he would accidentilty (or forcefully, if Pepper were in town) retrieve. Three months later, however, the dream was different.

  
  


_ It started the same as always, Tony introducing the fundraiser to the group, talking into the microphone with practiced ease: _

 

“Opportunities fall flat for those less fortunate. You all, even as young as you are, are gifted. I want to see if you have what it takes to do something with that talent. Who knows, maybe someday, some of you will work for me at Stark Industries.” The crowd cheered and he gave a firm nod and as he walked away from the podium. Pepper cut across to him.

 

“Where was the rest of it?” She asked. She had given him an outline of what to say a few days prior. He hadn’t even spent a minute skimming over it before he threw it, forgotten, onto his desk.

 

“That thing you gave me? It was longer than the Von Trapps’ Costco receipt.” He said, nodding a ‘thank you’ to a young man handing him a chilled water bottle. 

 

“Those things on there were important, Tony! You can’t just ignore the things I give you like that.” 

 

“It’s not my first rodeo, Ms, Potts. Don’t worry, I got all of the important stuff.” He waved goodbye and started onto the nearest booth, passing over the volcanoes and stopping at the ones that peaked his interests.

 

“Your in trouble.” Said a kid to his right.

 

“Ha-ha.” Tony mocked laughed. “Didn’t the workers at the orphanage ever teach you any manners?” He asked.

 

“Didn’t have to.” The kid responded, eyes narrowing. “My folks did that themselves.” 

 

“Didn’t do a very good job.” Tony muttered. “What’ve you got here?” He asked a bit louder, gesturing to the trinkets on the fold out table. His question caused the kid to perk up slightly, giddily pointing at the items on the table.

 

“This here is an engine for a scooter I built out of old phone and computer parts. Here’s a teddy bear with a voice recorded message and a simulated heartbeat. This is an old toy car I suped up to drive by voice command, and that’s a solar powered potato gun.” He stopped, looking up at Tony with awaiting and wide eyes.

 

“That’s cool kid the voice to drive- wait, did you say a  _ solar powered potato gun?”  _

 

“Yup! With it running on solar energy, I get a faster average firing rate than if I were to design it to shoot the potato’s manually.” The kids still smiling, all confidence and prowess. Tony blinks.

 

“A solar powered potato gun.” He repeats. “Well  _ that’s  _ a new one.” He picks up the plastic car. “This car though, this could get you somewhere, kid.” He says. 

 

“I know.” The kid agrees, making Tony smirk. “It was one of my better ideas.” 

 

“Right up there with the potato gun?” 

 

“Right  _ after  _ the potato gun.” The kid smiles.

 

“Huh, right.” Tony turns the toy over in his hand again. It’s a neat job, good craftsmanship and excellent handywork. The wires are tucked away and even the plastic casing has been painted and decorated to look like an original design. “How’d you feel about coming by the tower?” 

 

“I-I- what?” It’s funny, seeing this overly boastful kid go from cocky to speechless in less than a second. Tony’s almost proud of it.  _ Almost.  _

 

“Yeah, come by my workshop, come tinker around a little bit?” He set the car back down to get a better look at the kid. He looked maybe ten or eleven, and skinny. 

 

“I… Yeah, that sounds awesome!” 

  
  


Except… that’s not what happened. Tony never invited the kid to ‘come tinker’. He hadn’t even seen or heard of the kid since that day. 

 

The change in his dream, it was weird, probably from the takeout he had eaten the night before. Heartburn from getting old and all, as Pepper loved to remind him. 

 

This had to mean something though, didn’t it? Wasn’t there some physiological thing where dreams were meaningful? What if there was a decision of him that was carrying the world? Like time would stop next week if he ignored this dream tonight? 

 

Tony couldn’t take that chance. He couldn’t let the people of the world down (or let his curiosity build) and it was about time he does something about this damn kid.

 

He climbed out of bed, grabbing a pair of old, grease stained jeans to shimmy into on his way out. He didn’t bother to check the time, he knew it was late, or early or whatever. That didn’t really matter. He just needed to find this damn kid before he ended up in a mental clinic. 

 

***

 

Finding that ‘damn kid’ was a lot easier than it probably should have been, and definitely a lot easier than Tony thought it would be to find a child of whom he didn’t even know the last name of. It was all thanks to Pepper, really. Her and her immaculate record keeping, every detail every event ever hosted by Stark Industries was accessible through Tony’s network. 

 

The orphanage was in Queens, and called (very simply);  _ Queens Home for Boys.  _ It was only a short drive, and the winners receipt provided Tony with a last name. So, whether it was nearing four in the morning or not, he was on his way to Queens. 

 

By the time he actually reached the facility, and adding the time it took him to work up his courage, it was almost six. He straightened the rumpled suit jacket he had shirley thrown on and smoothed out his ‘floor jeans’ before taking a deep breath and knocking.

 

He didn’t know what here was there for exactly, to tell the kid off? Tell him to stop hovering in Tony’s peripheral vision? To quite stalking the man’s mentality? That seemed a little psycho-esque. He  _ still  _ hadn’t formulated a plan by the time a middle aged lady in a rumpled pantsuit opened the door. 

 

“May I help you sir- oh my goodness.” She gasped when she seemed to finally realize who he was. “Mr. Tony Stark, sir?” She stuttered.

 

“Tony should do it.” He corrects, using the moment to gather his bearings. “I was wondering if there was a kid here? Goes by Harley, Harley Parker.” He peers around the woman’s shoulder and into the home as he asks. 

 

“Ah, yes. Is-is there a reason you would want to be seeing him?” She asks warily. “I apologize if he did anything, I’m sure-”

 

“No, no.” Tony cuts her off, confused. “He didn’t do anything. I was actually here to talk to him about a summer internship.” 

 

“An internship? Are you sure, Mr. Stark? He’s only thirteen.” She asks, still standing in the center of the doorway.

 

“Positive.” He assures, nearly struggling at this point, to stay composed. “May I come in?”

 

“Oh!” It seems only now, the woman is realising she has kept him outside all of this time. “Of course, right this way.”

 

She leads him down a narrow corridor and into a slightly larger entry way. There is a room to his left, the living room or playroom, he presumes, and a large dining room to his right. There is a wide staircase directly in the center, in front of him. 

 

The orphanage itself isn’t in the best shape. Its a run down and archaic putting it generously. The light bulbs are dimmed and at the end of their life span, their low glow casting shadows onto the worn wood of the floor. There is wallpaper on some areas of the dining room wall, and paint peeling in the living room. The toys are old and used, colors fading from years of both love and misuse. Tony suspects not all of the children that have come here have been kind to them, or the building. He makes a small mental note to write this place a check in the near future. He cringes as he catches sight of a small bathroom. Make that the  _ very  _ near future. 

 

“How many boys do you have here?” He asks as he is led to the stairs.

 

“Eleven at the moment. We used to have twelve but there was multiple… complications, with one of them and we were forced to put him into a foster home just last week.” Tony nods, thinking about his college days and picturing a teenager filled to the brim with angst and the continuous craving for alcohol, sex, and weed. 

 

“And what are their ages?” He continues, mostly out of genuine curiosity.

 

“The youngest is nine and the oldest is fifteen.” She answers, as if the lack of young children is a relief. Tony understands that, but that doesn’t explain why there were so many colorful plastics along the floor of the living room. Perhaps they just liked to be prepared. “And here is the middle boys’ room.” She says, gesturing to a white stained door. 

 

“Thank you.” He tells her, giving a slight nod. “I can take it from here.”

 

“Of course. Let me know if there’s anything you need Mr. Stark.” She says before giving him the once over and heading down the hall, where he assumes, the workers rooms are. She’s probably on her way to spread the news about his arrival to all her co-workers. If that's the case, which he is almost sure is, then he better get a move on. 

 

It takes a good amount of his willpower to do so but, finally, he knocks on the door. 

 

The kid that answers is small and pudgy. He has a mop of tangled black curls atop his head and has to be no older than twelve. Tony immediately recognizes that this kid isn’t the one he’s looking for.

 

“Hey kid.” He says, clearing his throat. “Harley around?” 

 

The kid in front of him, previously interested in a game on his small and outdated gameboy, finally looks up at the sound of the familiar and all to famous voice.

 

“T-tony Stark?” He stutters, slowly dropping the hand holding the electronic. “ _ The  _ Tony Stark?” He asks again.

 

“That’s me.” Sighs Tony, trying to peer around the boy and into the room. “Is Harley around?”

 

“Harley Parker?” The kid asks, eyebrows screwed in confusion. 

 

“There any other Harley’s around here?” Tony asks. He’s probably pushing into what could be considered rude but honestly, he’s had it with all the fanboying. Its seriously dampening his progress.

 

The kid blushed, angling his head down slightly as he opened the door and moved out of the way to allow Tony room to pass through. 

 

The bedroom itself was cluttered and cramped. There were three twin beds in the small space, two of which made up a rickety bunk bed. There was a small desk, presumably shared by the three boys, wires and tools coated the top. At the desk, with his back to the door, sat the fabled Mr. Parker. 

 

“Stark.” The kid greets, back still to the door as continued working on his small creation. Tony didn’t know what to say;  _ long time, no see? How’ve you been? Sorry but can you please stop invading my dreams? _ What did you say in this type of situation? There should be a code for it. He briefly wonders if there are How To books on how to hold conversations with kids. Not that Tony was good with kids on his best days. 

 

Instead he says:

 

“Still working on that potato gun?” Its foolish and stupid, the kid probably won’t even remember the details of their first (and only) conversation. Honestly, Tony doesn’t understand why he remembers it himself. 

 

“No, actually.” The kid says, tinkering some more as he talks. “Voice controlled toy car.” The response startles Tony some, bringing him back to that conversation two years ago;  _ This car though, this could get you somewhere, kid.  _ Right. So the kid apparently  _ did  _ remember.

 

“Good.” Tony laughs, reverting back to humor and sarcasm in his awkwardness. “Those toys downstairs could use some help.”

 

“Especially now that there’s no one to play with them anymore.” Harley mutters under his breath. Tony doesn't think he was meant to hear but still, the comment gets the best of his curiosity. 

 

“What?” He asks.

 

“Oh-ah, nothing.” Harley says, before suddenly whipping around in his chair, screwdriver held tightly in his hand. “What do you want?”

 

Yeah, that. The trickiest part of this whole experience. 

 

“Do I have to want something?” He says instead. 

 

“Yeah, right.” Harley huffs a laugh. “The great Tony Stark comes all the way out to Queens just to chat with a couple of poor, mopey orphans. Even  _ I  _ know of your massive ego, Stark.” He says, turning back around to continue with his work. 

 

Tony stills. He knows that he’s bad, that most of the things that he does come across as selfish, that he often thinks about himself first. And really, the kids not  _ wrong, _ Tony did come here for his own benefit. 

 

There's something different about this Harley Parker though, something that has Tony making more small talk instead of finishing business quickly and then going on his way. He’s also the first person at this place that hasn’t gaped at him or silently wished for an autograph. Harley talked to him like a person, something very few people seemed to be able to do.

 

“Fine then.” He says. “You got me.” Tony makes his way to stand by the desk. “How would you like to come to my lab?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally decided on an uploading schedule: Sundays and Wednesdays :)
> 
> Sorry for the shorter chapter

It was hard to roam around the workshop of the great Tony Stark and act nonchalant. The place was so grand that even for someone with as much practice as Harley, it was nearly impossible to feign boredom. 

 

The man specialized in mechanics, Harley’s prime interest, and the endless amount of million dollar equipment was impressive, his fingers itching to grab as many materials as he could and start tinkering. He refrained, however. Coming to the lab hadn’t been his idea, it had been Tony’s. Infact, he probably would have denied the offer all together if it weren’t for the opportunity to get his mind off of recent events and learn from, undeniably, one of the best mechanics in the country. 

 

The process of getting Harley here had been quite easy, due both to the fact that Tony was a Stark, and therefore a billionaire, and that the orphanage has pre printed paperwork for daily visits and temporary guardianship. 

 

_Temporary guardianship._

 

It wasn’t like Tony was adopting him, or even fostering him for that matter. The man had simply invited him over for the afternoon, to tinker and bounce ideas off of each other, Harley presumed. Still, he couldn't help the small spike of fear that ran through him at the thought of being adopted. That couldn’t happen without-

 

“So kid, what'd ya think?” Asked Tony, arms spread wide and smiling at his great achievements.

 

“Flashy.” Harley says, eyeing an automated and self functioning coffee machine. “Functional, though.” He nodded to a pulley system. “So you what, built machines to build you more machines?” He asks. 

 

“Saves me time.” Tony nods. “Allows me to focus on the things that need more focusing on. Gives me time to improve the things my machines can’t.” 

 

“Like your suits.” Harley supplies. He was familiar with them, living in New York and seeing them zip around on the news channels. But he was well versed in their design as well, on their inner workings just as much as their paint job. Afterall, he knew someone very interested in their tech. In all Stark tech for that matter, them and their maker. He had learned about them himself to teach the one interested. 

 

“Yeah, kid. Like those.” Tony says. “So, you wanna give any of this a go?” 

 

“I don’t let machines do my work for me.” Harley says, nearly offended just at the mere idea of it. He has a problem with people taking credit for things not theirs, call it a pet peeve.

 

“No need to, I’ve got plenty of tools, materials, pretty much everything you’ll need. I can order in anything if something you need isn't here.” Tony says. 

 

“You can’t buy me, Stark.” Harley’s eyes are still cold, feet firmly planted. He’s been in this situation before, or at least something like it. He knows how it works, the bait on a fish hook as they try to lure you in. The food looks good, like a treat you haven’t been offered in such a long time. Bait catches fish, it’s a well known fact, but no one ever talks about how much it hurts the fish when they finally give in and bite the hook. Harley has first hand experience with pain like that, as do most foster kids.

 

“What?” Stark sputters, and Harley can’t tell if its feigned innocence or sincere.

 

“All of this!” Harley exasperates, throwing his arms up. “The offers, the sudden interest. What is it you want?” He’s frustrated, sick and tired of people tricking him, taking advantage of him and then recently; taking the only thing he ever cared about. 

 

There’s that question again. _What is it you want._ Tony still doesn’t really know how to answer it, doesn’t really know the answer himself, actually. He supposes it's because of his dream, how the difference between his nightly visions and reality spiked his curiosity. But even if he knew for sure that was the reason he invited this kid to his personal labs, he knew better than to admit that out loud. Children have fragile feelings and all that.

 

“Look, kid.” He sighed. “How old are you?

 

“Thirteen.” 

 

“Then think about it like this: I want to do what my father never did for me, teach you all there is to know about the subjects that interest you the most.” Tony begins, breaking through his walls a little. “I want to give you a stepping stone to wherever you want to go. A little boost. Being an orphan ain’t fun kid.”

 

“So you wanna be like, my mentor?” Harley asked, his eyes are still cold and untrusting, but his voice betrayed him. It is hopeful. 

 

“Yeah, yeah like your mentor.” Tony agrees. He rubs his hands together. “I’m giving you free range kid, show me what you can do.” And then as an afterthought: “Just keep your paws off of the coffee machine.” 

 

***

 

It starts that way. Harley going over to Tony’s lab Wednesday and Friday evenings. He’s hesitant at first, still not fully convinced of Tony’s seemingly innocent and selfless intentions. He’s met a lot of creeps in his life, dealt with just as many.   

 

Still, nearly two months pass and there’s nothing. No raising of voices, no inappropriate comments or gestures, nothing that screams _danger._ Not even when Harley knocks over a whole two trays of tools or accidentally connects the wrong wires and causes a mini explosion. Tony had just _laughed._

 

Harley tries again and again to insist that he can just take the subway from the station just outside of the orphanage to the stop near the tower. His attempts are fruitless, though, and the man just waves the offers off again and again and tells Harley that it's not a big deal, that Happy, his personal driver, will pick him up at three next Wednesday.   

 

And Happy always was there, always the right place and always on time. It was weird, Harley had to admit, to have something in his life that resembled a commitment, something besides tinkering to busy up his schedule. The most shocking of this new agreement was spending time with someone who seemed to actually tolerate his presence, seemed to _like_ it even. He hadn’t had that since the orphanage kicked out one of its kids, two months prior. 

 

It was nice. It made it almost _easy_ to be happy again. 

 

*** 

 

The noise was high pitched and screeching in a way that made your ears ache, similar to the terrified scream of a toddler. There was a thickness to the air, along with the scent of ash and burning wood.

 

It is the middle of the night, the last thing Harley remembers is dinner before being sent early to bed, he had stepped out of kind again. He had an early session with Tony tomorrow, an unusual treat for Saturday morning, but something that he was looking forward to and had set an alarm for. This blaring, high pitched frequency, was not the same alarm that he had set.

 

Harley and the other boys that share his room are sitting up, rubbing the sleep from their eyes and looking at each other like one of the four might know what is going on. Not even one of them does. 

 

The only window in their room is open, allowing the fall breeze to come inside. Three out of the four prefer the window open, it was a majority rule, decided and agreed upon many months ago. Harley, always the one who wouldn’t easily trust others, had been the only of the four to not want it open. Now, Halrley was thankful for that decision, as the moonlight cast a shadow onto the substance clogging the air. 

 

Smoke. 

 

He could smell it now, and see it invading in giant wafts through the base of the door. Light, hues of yellow, red and orange, could be seen flickering on the other side of the thin wood. 

 

“Fire!” One of the boys screamed, frantic and panicked as he started for the window. The boys name was Eric, twelve years old and fairly new to the orphanage. Harley knew him as timid but friendly and, as foster kids went, relatively normal and unscarred. 

 

The heat from the fire was affecting the temperature in the room now, the sweltering flames causing small beads of sweat to form on the boys faces and backs of their necks- some of which were also anxiety induced.

 

Out of the four in the room, Harley was the oldest, the fact made him feel obligated to protect the others. 

 

Escaping through the door was no longer an option, the fire, whatever it was, had spread too far through the hall and now blocked their once safest point of exit. They were on the third floor, the window would have to be good enough. Afterall, it was the only other way. 

 

The flames were eating away at the door now, the snapping and crackling of the wood as it burned sounding along with the sounds of the roaring fire.

 

“Tear out the screen, we’re going to have to climb down!” Harley shouted to the others, quickly grappling for his backpack and swiping a few important items into the back. A teddy bear, a baby blanket, and an old pacifier- to which a hospital band was tied onto. 

 

Once finishing, he hurried around the room, tearing the sheets from the bed and tying them together with the strongest knots he knew of. The door was moments from collapsing, the wood at the last of it integrity, the flames winning easily. 

 

“Take this end.” He told one of the boys, Michael and newly thirteen (like himself), as he handed him one end of this makeshift rope. 

 

There was a tree just outside their window, and a rather large one for being in central Queens. Many nights the boys had complained to each other about its branches, and how they would scratch against the glass of the window and keep the rooms occupants up at night, Now, however, Harley couldn’t be more thankful for that tree. 

 

Making quick work of it, he moved to lean out of the window, the screen long since removed by the other boys, and secured one end of the length of sheets to the branch. He tied it three times, just to be sure. 

 

“Roy, you first.” He said, motioning to the youngest of the room; eleven and just missing the cut off of the youngest boys’ room. “Grab the sheet between your hands and slide down. You’ll need to hold on _very_ tightly. Once your at the bottom, run at least thirty feet away, don’t wait for us.” Harley instructed. 

 

Roy nodded, his eyes wide with fear as he made to crawl out of the window. The door to the room moaning as he did so. Within seven seconds, Roy was sliding down and out of sight. 

 

Eric was next. Then Michael, who had put up a small fuss and tried to insist Harley go before him. The slightly older of the two had refused.

 

Harley took one last look at their smoke filled, and now empty,  room. He was barely able to see through the air now, the thickness of it making it difficult to take a proper breath. For the first time in two months, he was extremely thankful of the social workers decisions to send the twelfth boy of their home to foster care. After all, the room for the younger boys was all the way down the hall. 

 

There was another groan from the wood behind him and a pop as one of the metal hinges bent from the heat. In the last few seconds possible, Harley took hold of the sheets and, just as the door exploded, he jumped.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, 
> 
> Tags are important, let me know if I missed any!
> 
> Make my day on tumblr!
> 
> Comments are my coffee :,)


	3. Chapter 3

The commotion of lights and sound hit Harley at the same time his feet hit the ground. There were fire trucks, there, and on the way, as well as multiple ambulances lined up along the street. The emergency lights and sirens flooding his senses.

 

The boys he shared his room with were seated on the tail ends of two different ambulances, facing one another as the paramedics checked up on them. Down the sidewalk a little further, Harley could see a larger body, one of a teenager, being loaded into another vehicle. He was being transported on a stretcher.

 

Harley turned his head, it was easier to pretend he did not know who it was.

 

In the other direction, the other boys were being tended to; four of the younger boys and two of the older. Harley let out a breath of relief- everyone seemed to be okay.

 

“Are you Harley?” A paramedic asked from behind him. Harley turned to the man.

 

“Yes, sir.” He answered.

 

“The other boys told us the escape was all your idea, your friends were lucky to have you.” The man gave three curt pats to Harley’s shoulder before nodding and motioning for him to follow.

 

_ Friends was a relative term _ , Harley thought.

 

The man led him over to an empty ambulance, one free of patients or other emt’s and asked him to sit on the edge and lift up his shirt. Harley did as told, eyes wary and various all throughout.

 

“I’m just going to check your lungs, does anything hurt?” He asked, his name tag said his name was John.

 

“No, sir.” Harley said.

 

The cold metal of the stethoscope felt good against the still too warm skin of his chest. He breathed deeply when instructed to do so.

 

John hummed.

 

“What started the fire?” Harley asked as the stethoscope was moved to monitor from a different angle.

 

“A cigarette butt, one one your friends’.” Harley scoffed, there was no doubt to whom  _ that  _ belonged to.

 

“He’s not my friend.” He said, a bit more bitter than necessary.

 

“Got good taste in people then, kid.” John said. “Your lungs sound a little irritated, are you sure nothing hurts?” 

 

Harley thought, before he had just said no, that nothing hurt. It was the automatic response,  _ I’m okay, I’m fine.  _ Now that he thought about it,  _ really  _ thought about it, his chest  _ was _ a little tight, and he could feel his heart beat in his ankle. He hadn’t realized he had landed wrong. Adrenaline was funny like that.

 

“I’m fi-“ He started, before thinking of another time with someone else.  _ I’m fine _ . They had said. Harley had been sitting at the side of their hospital bed not five hours later. “It’s a little tight, yeah.” He admits. They can get to the ankle issue later.

 

“Alright.” John says, wrapping the stethoscope up and putting it back in its designated spot. “See that ambulance over there?” He asked, pointing to one just beyond the crowd, another boy sat inside. “Head over to that one, I’ll find someone to drive you boys down to the hospital.” 

 

Harley nodded, though was internally groaning, hospitals were far from his favourite. Though, he supposed there were worse places to be, that he has been in worse places.

 

He listened, and started towards the other ambulance. 

 

The drive to Queens general was bumpy, but short. An emt, Daniele, if he remembered correctly, sat in the back with the three boys. Harley, Roy, and Mason, newly ten and who slept in the younger boys’ room. They were to be kept at the hospital overnight so that the staff could monitor their breathing. 

 

The hospital itself, was far from impressive. Harley had been there multiple times before, sitting in the uncomfortable plastic of the waiting room chairs and lingering by someone else’s bedside but this was his first visit with himself as the patient. 

 

The service was slow and the establishment was run down and poorly funded, but the paramedics that had been on the scene of the orphanage actually seemed to be putting effort into getting the boys settled quickly. 

 

They were set up in a shared room, three beds with curtains giving them at least minimal privacy. They were given clean sets of clothes and, with a little convincing from the boys, were allowed to remain in them for the night instead of the alternative of itchy hospital gowns. Two monitors for each boy, respiratory and an EKG, and they were set to sleep. 

 

Finally, at 2:30 that Saturday morning, the lights in room 106A, were flicked off.

 

***

 

At 4:06 there was murmuring in the hall. The door to the boys’ room had been left open by the last nurse to enter and now allowed for Harley to eavesdrop on the conversation taking place just outside. 

 

“Just getting settled-“ Someone was saying, a female, Harley presumed. 

 

“New York…. over populated…. not enough…” He hears, this time a male. It sounds like John's voice.

 

“Unfair… brothers…” That catches Harley’s attention, he did not know of any pairs of brothers at the orphanage. If his assumptions were correct and that  _ was  _ what they were talking about. 

 

“It's what the case worker thinks will be best.” John says, Harley stills. If this is  _ his  _ caseworker they’re chattering about, that means  _ bad news.  _ In the last few years since he’s been in the system, his social worker has brought nothing but ill made decisions and half-assed placements.

 

“They’re sending him to Tennessee tomorrow?” The woman asked again, Harley couldn’t tell if she was a nurse from the hospital, the EMT Danielle, or someone else entirely. He was more focused on the mention of a state a thousand miles away. 

 

“First thing in the morning, poor kid. They think it’s better if they don’t get a goodbye.” 

 

“Yeah, but Harley seems like he has a good head on his shoulders.” 

 

Harley shudders.  _ Tennessee?  _

 

***

 

The first thing Harley did when he woke up was check his sack for his belongings. The three items, the bear, the blanket, and the pacifier, were all accounted for. 

 

He checked the clock.

 

6:03 A.M.

 

It would have to do.

 

He swept his possessions back into the sack before tearing off the monitors and moving to leave. He knew the drill, he’s done this countless of times, it wouldn’t be long before they sent his social worker. Besides, this was the opportunity he had been waiting for.

 

The machines were left blaring in the background as Harley set out down the hall. Their mostly empty at this time of day, the only light being from the LEDs set into the ceiling. The lack of people left the residue of dirt and old rain water completely visible. The walls and floors could use a good washing.

 

The waiting room is sparse as well, and it seems only a pair of eager ‘soon-to-be’ grandparents are seated among the sea of back breaking chairs.

 

Harley takes a breath. This is too easy, the lack of security, the immense amount of time it was taking for the nurses to respond to his chaotic monitors and realize he was no longer there.

 

He had tried to do this before, he remembers, not all that many months ago either. It was harder then, and he hadn’t even been able to make it to the front door before he was caught. He supposed it was difficult to be subtle when you were fleeing with a small child pressed to your hip. 

 

Now though, alone and with nothing but a backpack, he ran. He sprinted the rest of the distance to the door, each step a leaping bound. The parking lot was slightly busier, workers arriving to clock in for the morning shift. There was a slight drizzle of rain that left goosebumps on Harley’s skin. Either that, or the thrill of proposed freedom. 

 

The wetness seeps through his frayed sneakers, the only pair of shoes he owned and the only other thing he had grabbed before his great escape the previous night. Now, with the bitter chill of autumn, he wishes he had also grabbed his jacket. Even it’s thinness would have been better than nothing.

 

He slows down a little, once a safe distance away from the main door, he can’t look suspicious. Running causes suspicion, he knows this from experience. 

 

There’s screaming by the hospital entrance only minutes after he leaves and he has to admit, they were faster than he expected. 

 

He ducks behind a nearby dumpster for cover, though by now he is far away enough that he would be difficult to depict through the misting rain. He shivers again. 

 

He needs a computer, or some other point of internet access. If he had been given the chance, he would have snooped in his caseworkers files again, or hacked into the man’s phone while he was distracted. He has done it before, it was easier to find these things that way, not all of it is put on the internet.

 

Nevertheless, he finds himself in front of the public library. 

 

His library card is nonexistent, but the teenage girl sitting behind the front desk is distracted by her phone and he easily slips past. While walking past, he grabs an internet pass. Without it, the computers are useless to him. 

 

He logs in with the keycard and opens the search browser, clicking straight away to the login for email. He knows his caseworkers usernames and passwords, he had memorized them ages ago.

 

He enters the information successfully and navigates to search the inbox. There, Harley types:

 

**Peter Parker, Queens, placement**

 

There are three results that catch his eye immediately. One is an email dates three years ago, when he and the younger boy were originally entered into the system, the other is more recent, from two and a half months ago. 

 

The email is rather short, a list of complaints from the workers at the orphanage. The worry about a possible lawsuit if anyone finds out what had been going on behind the scenes. Talk about it being easier to relocate the boy and than deal with a jury. How the workers are sick of the toddlers medical needs and rescue of nightmares.

 

Harley scoffs, the workers didn’t deal with any of that as it was.  _ He  _ had always been the one to do the tending to. Besides, the boy wouldn’t have had nightmares if adults could do their jobs.

 

He scrolled, and saw the return email. A message of understanding and an apology for the inconvenience. Harley sneered:  _ These goddam people.  _

 

There was an attachment, probably the address to where Peter was now. They wouldn’t tell Harley, had refused when he bothered to ask, but now-

 

“There you are, kid!” He whirled, quickly swiping the screen back to home.

 

“T-tony?” He sputtered to the man approaching him. 

 

“The one and only.” He said. “Say, what are you doing in a library on a Saturday? Don’t you kids have phones these days?” The question is innocent, not meant to cause harm but still, it sends a flair of anger through Harley.

 

“Not everyone’s a billionaire.” He spits. 

 

“Oh I see, we’re trying the teen angst out today, are we?” Tony paces, laughter suddenly replaced with seriousness. “How do think I felt this morning, huh? Rolling up to your place to find it tapped of and  _ smoking?  _ Then come to find you're  _ apparently  _ at the hospital but all I see when I get there is an empty bed?!” Harley is furious. This man has  _ no  _ right. None. 

 

“ _ Your  _ upset?” He screams, breaking what he’s pretty sure is library code. “My home of three years is burnt to a  _ crisp _ , my already small amount of belongings is down by half, they’re planning to ship me out to Tennessee and  _ your _ pissed because you didn’t get a heads up text? Well news flash, dumbass, not all orphans have phones!” His vision is blurred with angry tears and Harley’s fists shake as he clenches and unclenches them repeatedly. “ _ You  _ don’t get to be upset.” 

 

Tony, for his part, looks completely taken aback and a little ashamed. Mostly though, he looks apologetic, not like he pities Harley, just like he has empathy for him.

 

“I’m sor- wait.” He starts, and Harley wishes he could say he was surprised Tony cut off his own apology. “Did you say Tennessee?”

 

“Yeah?” Harley blinks.

 

“So what? No more lab time, then?” Tony asks, which is rather dumb for a billionaire.

 

“Well Tennessee ain’t exactly a train stop away, is it?” Harley sasses.

 

“You can’t use smart assery on the master, kid. Why are they shipping you all the way over there?” Tony asks.

 

“I didn’t stick around for that part.” He admits.

 

“So I take it your not happy with this?” 

 

“Happy? Of course not!” Harley says, voice increasing in volume. “New York is my home!” 

 

Tony looks at the kid. Eyes wide, red and wet from emotion and lack of sleep. Harley’s clothes are much too big, colors faded from years of ware, material rubbed thin. His shoes are frayed and wet, his frame skinny, his hair and face dirty. Tony sighs. He’s been thinking about this for years he realizes. He says it before he can think. 

 

“I have an idea.” 

 

“An idea.” Harley deadpans. “Does this involve illegally pulling me from the system?” 

 

“No, not illegally. Unless you want to?” 

 

“Not illegally, definitely not illegally if we don’t have to.” Harley hurries. Legally means more protection, less chances of screw up, following legalities means no more running. “How are we going to do this legally?” He asks, though he thinks he already knows.

 

“Simple.” Tony says, a smirk taking over his features. “I’m going to adopt you.” 

 

_ ‘Well’,  _ Harley thinks, _ ‘it’s a better plan than Tennessee’. _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What’s this I hear about Peter Parker?
> 
>  
> 
> Also, I just saw Far From Home yesterday, so if anyone is up for chit chatting swing by my tumblr.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry for the shorter chapter, it just seemed a good place to end things :) 
> 
> Hope y’all enjoy!

It had been two weeks. Two weeks of sitting at his shiny new desk and tapping his pencil on the edge. Two weeks of lying awake in bed, trying to work up his courage. Two weeks of staring at the same address and not doing anything with it.

 

Two weeks was long enough.

 

Harley  _ had  _ to do something about this.

 

Before all of…  _ this,  _ Harley would have sprinted out the door and been on his way faster than you could blink. But now? When he was finally, for the first time in many long months, given the chance? He froze.

 

As it turns out, apparently being a billionaire has more perks to it than meets the eye. It doesn’t just mean lots of money and cool toys, it also means good lawyers, unimportant legalities and quick processes. It hadn’t even taken three days for the man to adopt Harley. 

 

Everything better for the rich, apparently.

 

Still, the arrangement kept him in New York, which meant it also kept him closer to Peter. And it’s not like his time with Tony had just been something he had been putting up with. He genuinely  _ enjoyed _ spending time with the man, tinkering in his lab and watching movies together on the living room couch. 

 

Not only all of that, free internet access  _ all the time.  _ He had a phone now, and a new laptop, which he immediately hacked into in order to assure his history wasn’t being tracked.

 

Then he continued his search. 

 

He found the address in only a matter of hours, but there was something so terrifying about it, that he chickened out. Again, and again, and again. 

 

The address wasn’t for a slum on the edge of Queens, not for some filthy shit hole of a drunks apartment either. Instead, it was for a high rise right there in Manhattan. It was  _ odd  _ to say the least, and frankly quite concerning. Harley didn’t know what he would do if he couldn’t get Peter out of that home, that was the whole reason for why he  _ stayed _ , because he  _ needed _ to get Peter back. 

 

He had done a  _ terrific  _ job of that so far.

 

He sighed. He had the address and about as much willpower as he was going to get. It had been nearly three months since he had last seen his brother, and two weeks since he had the address. 

 

He needed to stop putting it off, there would be time to procrastinate in death. For now, his baby brother needed him. 

 

He snuck out of the tower while Tony was in a meeting, dragged there by none other than Pepper, of course. He gauged he had about an hour before the pair returned and discovered he had long since slipped out. But it’s not like he was running away just… exploring. He was doing errands, was what he said in the note he left.

 

The building was formal, velvet ropes leading to the door, a doorman _ ,  _ a red carpeted lobby, elevators with the one thousand light up buttons. Harley smirked,  _ Peter must  _ love those _.  _

 

Even with all that, security had been  _ way  _ too easy to bypass. At least in Harley’s opinion, and that’s  _ considering  _ all of the experience he has under his belt. 

 

The apartment was 332B, on the thirty third floor. 

 

When he knocked, there was a hollar of ‘just a minute!’ from within before a younger woman answered the door. She seemed to be going somewhere nice, perhaps on a date or to gala. She wore a long satin dress that was millimeters away from dragging on the floor and held a black leather clutch. She wore about three pounds of make-up. Harley disliked her immediately.

 

“Nice to see you Ha-“ She finally, actually,  _ looked  _ at Harley before she wrinkled her brow. “Your not Harold.”  _ Must be her date.  _ Harley thought, along with,  _ Who the hell names their kid Harold? _

 

“No…. I’m look for Peter? Peter Parker?” Harley asks, fingering the note with the address nervously.

 

“The next visit wasn’t until next week… aren’t you a little young to be a social worker?” She questions, her eyes narrowing defensively as she gives him a once over.

 

“Yeah, um, I’m Harley.” He stammers and then explains: “Peters older brother.” 

 

“Oh!” The woman exclaims, realization dawning on her face. “Well, he’s out.” 

 

“Out.” Harley deadpans. “What do you mean he’s  _ out?” _

 

“I have a busy schedule,” the woman began, “and the boy’s smart.” Seeing Harley’s flabbergasted expression she was quick to add: “Don’t worry, I gave him some money, he’ll be alright. He’s taken a liking to that little coffee shop by Central Park.” 

 

“Your letting a  _ four year old _ walk around New York City,  _ alone?!”  _ Harley’s hands clenched into fists at his side, his vision clouds with red.

 

“Oh, he’s four now?” She asks, seemingly baffled. “I swear he was just three, when was his birthday?” It’s so innocent, asked without even the smallest bit of guilt, that it fills Harley with even more fury. 

 

Harleys blood boils, and he spits: “The tenth!” before he slams the door in her perfectly made up face. He storms back to the elevator, back through the lobby, knocking over a red velvet rope and startling the doorman in his hate. 

 

He was going to go to that damn coffee shop, and that kid  _ better _ be there.

 

The coffee shop was somewhere Harley had actually been before, when he and Tony were meeting his social worker when the adoption was just going through. There had been children there, many with their families of course, but he can safely say he hadn’t seen Peter. He thinks he would have noticed a toddler sitting on their own. He  _ knows  _ he would have noticed Peter.

 

The coffee shop is two blocks away from the woman’s apartment and we walks them both with a quickened pace. He’s angry, both at the world and at himself. Three months,  _ three whole months _ , and he was finally going to get to see his baby brother again. He just couldn’t believe he had waited that long, that he had wasted that much time. 

 

‘ _ Don’t get your hopes up, Parker.’  _ Harley reminded himself. 

 

Still, he  _ did _ get his hopes up, each step closer to the cafe feeling lighter and lighter. But it was for good reason, because when the little glass door jingled as he opened it, guess who was sitting in one of the arm chairs? None other than little Peter Parker. 

 

Harley’s breath hitched, his throat constricted and his vision blurred. This sight of Peter in of itself was almost too much to bare. The little boy in front of him was  _ exactly _ like he had remembered, quiet and docile, small and sitting huddled in a chair with a book and a chocolate chip cookie.

 

“P-peter?” He asked, taking a cautious step forward. Peter had always been jumpy and easy to scare. Still, even with the softness of Harley’s voice, the toddler flinched, hurrying to slam his book shut like he had been reading about something  _ other  _ than dinosaurs.

 

“Harley?!” The boy yelped, taking in his older brothers image before hurrying to rest his cookie on his book and all but  _ leap  _ into the older boy’s arms.

 

Harley was ready, as he always had been (and always will be) and took the squirming boy in his arms. Peter was light, still too light as he had been at the orphanage. His clothes were still dirty and a bit too large, which didn’t make sense because it looked like that  _ witch  _ back in her penthouse had enough money to at least buy this kid a decent coat. Peter’s hair was caked with dirt and knitted together with snarls, he smelled like wet dog and faintly of old urine. 

 

It strengthened Harley’s burning fire of fury.

 

“I missed you.” Peter mumbled into his brothers shoulder. 

 

“I know,” Harley said, bouncing the boy, “I’m sorry I let them take you.” 

 

“S’okay.” Peter assured, head still buried in the crook of Harley’s neck. “I was bad.” 

 

Harley stilled at the words, goosebumps rising on his arms and more anger flaring in his chest. 

 

“No. No, Peter you were  _ never  _ bad. Okay? Not  _ ever _ .” Harley sooths, running his hand up and down the boys back and bouncing him some more.

 

“D’you come tuh save me?” Peter says, lifting his head, shining big brown puppy dog eyes staring straight into Harley’s own. 

 

“Save you?” Harley asks.

 

“The lady, she’s mean.” Peter sniffs, Harley stiffens.

 

“How is she mean?” Harley asks, almost afraid to do so.

 

“She doesn’t like me. She won’t help me with bathtime a-and no snacks or dinner.” Peter admits. Harley blanches, knowing Peter is barely scratching the surface.

 

“She doesn’t feed you.” Harley deadpans.

 

“She says she wants me fo’ the money.” Peter says, eyes watering. “I can’ reach the food.” 

 

“Oh, God.” Harley whispers. Peters been going through  _ shit  _ living with that poor excuse of a human while Harley’s been procrastinating at his brand new desk. He hasn’t been there to protect him, Peter, his  _ little brother, _ and it makes him feel  _ sick.  _

 

“Yeah kiddo, I’m here to save you.” He finally says. “I’ve got some presents for you, and someone for you to meet. Do you want to go see?” He asks, plan formulating in the back of his mind as the boy in front of him takes up the forefront. Peter responds with an over exaggerated nod.

 

“Okay, okay, lets go.” Harley says, turning to leave the shop. Heart light with happy relief but tight from fear at the same time.

 

“Wait!” Peter shouts frantically, causing some heads to turn as he squirms in Harley’s grip. “M’cookie.” He says seriously, pointing at the chair.

 

“ _ Right _ .” Harley laughs. “How  _ dare  _ me for almost forgetting your cookie.” 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s things happening, folks.

As the pair made their way back to the tower, Harley attempted to convince himself that he was  _ not  _ kidnapping a young child and that  _ Brothers are different, Harley.  _ All the while Peter happily chatted alongside him. He had long since put the younger boy down, his arms had tired easily from the small weight, and Peter now skipped next to him, his small hand in Harley’s larger one. 

 

“An’ she said fo’ my bir’day she’s gonna get me a chem’sty set!” Peter exclaimed happily galloping in his worn out flip flops. The boy didn’t seem to mind how he kept tripping over them. Harley gulped, not wanting to tell the boy that his birthday had passed well over a week ago. There would be time for things like that later.

 

“Did she put you back in daycare?” Harley asked. Peter had been in daycare before, when the workers at the orphanage wanted to busy him while the other kids were at school so that they could have the place free to themselves. The toddler had  _ hated  _ it. He was always getting picked on by the other kids and was already light years ahead of all that ‘baby material’, as Peter liked to call it. 

 

“Nuh-uh, she said school ‘ain’t worth shit’.” Peter said, hopping into a puddle as they passed. Harley chucked at the mix of the vulgar language and Peters young voice. “ ‘sides, she said I’m too smart.” 

 

“Well that’s one thing she was right about.” Harley said as he laughed. 

 

As they walked Peter had shared some more things about what had happened between now and when they had seen each other last. It sounded like this woman was a first class bitch but still not as bad as some of the people the two boys had encountered. 

 

As Peter continued to speak, it made Harley realize exactly how much he had missed the child’s non stop chattering. His voice was like music from the heavens to Harley’s ears. 

 

“Where we goin’?” Peter asked, swinging his and Harley’s hand.

 

“A, uh….” Harley was at a loss for words. Did he tell Peter that Tony had adopted him? It would probably make the boy upset, that his big brother had a home and he didn’t. Right now the pair were still caught in the relief of being reunited… Harley decided it would be easier to avoid the complicated things for now. “A friend’s.” He said instead.

 

“You made a friend?!” Peter exclaimed, looking at Harley as if the boy had just conquered the world. Harley tried to not take it as an insult. “Can you teach me how to make a friend?” Peter asked, causing a knot to form in Harley’s chest.

 

“Yeah bud, yeah I can teach you.” He replied. He picked Peter up as they entered the tower.

 

“Are we gonna take the ‘vator?” Peter asked, resting his head in his brothers shoulder. The boy looked tired, like he hadn’t had a good, nightmare free sleep in far too long. In all reality, he probably hadn’t, Harley didn’t remember the last time Peter had slept a full night.

 

“The vator?” Harley asked, confused. 

 

“Yeah.” Peter said, pointing in front of them. “The ‘vator, silly.” He said. Realization sparked and Harley laughed.

 

“Ohh, the  _ elevator _ .” Harley amended, Peter nodded furiously. “Yeah bud, we’re taking the vator.” 

 

Peter beamed in return.

 

***

 

In Tony’s opinion, the countless meetings Pepper insisted on dragging him to were some of the most pointless things he has ever wasted his time with. Usually, the numerous hours he spent seated around an overly large table, listening to other board members drone on about last months stock, got the company nowhere. The decisions were never fully made in only the meetings and he later found Pepper held prisoner over piles of paperwork, doing all the dirty work herself anyway, so what was the point of Tony’s attendance? He had made Pepper a CEO for a reason. 

 

Nevertheless, there were only so many times Tony could tell Pepper  _ no _ before she began to become fed up with him and he started digging himself an early grave. Thus; the reason he had to attend one of those horrid meetings today. 

 

It was hard for him, to leave Harley alone in the Penthouse. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the boy, just that he was concerned for his safety. 

 

Tony was well aware the boy had been left on his own many times before, but it didn’t change his growing concern: What if he got hungry and hurt himself in the kitchen? What if he was tinkering and cut himself on a sharp edge? What if he connected the wrong wires and caused a mini explosion? Or a big one? 

 

But what probably scared Tony the most, was that  _ he,  _ a  _ Stark _ , was having these concerns. It almost made him ... parental _. Fatherly _ , even. 

 

_ Stark men aren’t meant to be fathers. _

 

Now that Harley is finally with him, Tony finds himself wondering if it took him so long to adopt the boy because he was afraid he would turn out like his own father. A man who only wanted Tony as an heir, someone to train to take over the company. Not as someone to love or father, as a tool, as an asset. But now, with Harley here and here for  _ good,  _ Tony knew he could never treat the boy as he has been treated by his father. He simply didn’t have the cajonés for it. 

 

He was pretty confident in his abilities, even if he was still more of a mentor to the teen than a father. Baby steps. 

 

The elevator doors opened as Pepper berated him for his lack of participation in today’s shareholder meeting, telling him that if he showed more interest, the company would thrive. He had hired all those employees and passed the position of CEO down to Pepper so that he  _ wouldn’t  _ have to pay attention. 

 

As long as the company didn’t revert to manufacturing weapons again, he would rather put his time and effort into upgrading his suits and getting to know Harley. 

 

Speaking of Harley, the boy was sitting on the couch, his head and the tops of his shoulders visible from where Tony and Pepper were stepping off of the elevator. His dirty blond hair was much cleaner than when Tony had first taken him in.

 

Harley seemed to be whispering, head bowed while he murmured. Tony furrowed his eyebrows, it didn’t seem like the kid had noticed his and Peppers arrival yet. 

 

“Harley?” He asked, walking to the couch slowly, not knowing what to expect. 

 

Harley reeled, jumping slightly as he emits a high pitch squeal which did  _ not  _ sound like him.

 

“Tony?” He says. “How was the meeting.” 

 

Tony relaxes at this, he’s just being silly, Harley was probably just muttering to himself in his loneliness. 

 

“Oh you know, boring as always. I will say though, the catering service was much nicer this time. Cheeseburgers always win over steaks in my opinion.” Nothing like a good ol’ American burger. He was thinking about suggesting some for dinner. “I’ve gotta hand it to Pepper-“ 

 

He cuts himself short as he rounds the couch. There, sitting on the floor and wheeling around Harley’s new and improved voice start car, was a  _ baby _ .  _ That  _ must be who was responsible for the earlier squeal.

 

“I guess I don’t have to ask you what you were up to.” Tony says, staring at the new child. “He’s not yours right? Because I thought you were still too young for  _ that  _ talk.” Peter stares right back at Tony. “ _ Did Pepper drug my coffee again _ ?” Tony whispers to himself.

 

“Tony.” Harley starts carefully. “This is Peter, my little brother.” Peter beams at this, small baby teeth forming an adorable smile. He has a dimple on each of his dirt streaked cheeks. The boys look entirely different, yet similar at the same time. They both have medium toned skin and curly hair. Harley’s is dirty blond while Peters is a chocolate brown but their facial structures are the same, though Peters is covered by more baby fat. 

 

The boy looks similar to how Harley did when Tony had found him at the library that day, if not worse. He’s caked in dirt and smells  _ disgusting.  _ His curly hair is tangled together so badly, Tony wouldn’t blame a bird for mistaking it for a nest. His clothes are oversized, his bony shoulders and collar bone visible through a whole in his t-shirt. Tony immediately wants to make this kid eat a meal fit for an army, and have him take a nap, his dark circles are bad enough to rival the man’s himself. 

 

“Did you kidnap a baby, Harley?” Tony asks, talking a measured step closer to the boys. Peter giggles, brown eyes sparkling as he does so.

 

“M’not a baby Mr. Stark!” He laughs, holding up three small fingers. “I’m three!” Tony laughs, ignoring the wince Harley tries to hide at the admission of age.

 

“Oh course, kid.”  _ Where the hell had that come from.  _ “So… was there a vendor on the street or has this been a thing?” Tony asks.

 

“We have the same mom.” Harley supplies. 

 

“Mm, right.” Tony nods. “So.” He gestures to Peter. “Is kiddo here to stay or is this just a play date?” 

 

“Actually…” Harley drawls. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” He’s fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie, a nervous habit he’s had for as long as he can remember. 

 

“Okay, shoot.” Tony nods. 

 

“Actually, let’s go to my room for a minute.” Harley says, glancing at Peter. “Pete, stay here a minute. We’ll be right back, okay?” 

 

Peter nods, make  _ ‘vroom’  _ sounds as he pushes the car along the floor.

 

Once in the safety of his room, away from prying eyes and little ears, Harley takes a deep breath. 

 

“So I was thinking, and I know this is a lot to ask for and it’s not my place and that you’ve already done way, way too much for me but I was just thinking, you know: because Pete’s my  _ brother,  _ and he’s just a toddler and all that, that maybe he could come here too? I mean, he’s been through a lot of shit and he’s living with a real bitch right now so if we can’t take him then could you please help me find him a new home? I know he says he’s not, but he’s just a baby Tony, he’s just a  _ baby. _ ” Harley’s breathes are hitched by the end of his plea, his eyes moist with the images tears he is struggling to hold back. 

 

Tony’s gapping at him, eyes wide and mouth opening and closing like a fish. He can obviously tell that this is all _ really _ important to Harley. This kid, who he could have sworn was as tough as a tank, is on the verge of tears. 

 

Tony gears are turning like no one’s business. Had this kid just asked him what he really thinks he just heard? “W-what?” The man finally stutters. 

 

“Please don’t make me say it again.” Harley begs.

 

“I-I.” Tony gasps. Saying yes is a lifetime commitment, it means having a kid for longer than Harley, it means being responsible for a  _ toddler _ which, by Tony’s definition, means  _ tiny impressionable and breakable human,  _ and fits in the same category as newborns and young kids:  _ Fragile. _

 

He’s pretty confident in his child rearing skills when it comes to Harley, a teenager capable of fending for himself and keeping himself alive if push comes to shove. This? This is a small  _ toddler.  _ And Tony knows jack  _ shit  _ about toddlers.

 

But the one thing that Tony  _ does  _ know, is that anything, any _ one _ , that’s important to Harley, is important to him too. 

 

It doesn’t matter what his father would have thought, it doesn’t matter what Obadiah would have said. They aren’t here.  _ No one  _ is here, but Tony and these boys and for  _ once _ in Tony’s decently long life, this isn’t anyone’s decision but his own. 

 

“Yes, yes of course I will.” He finally says. He can hear a small Peter sized sneeze come from the living room, he can see Harley’s heart warming, shit eating, grin. 

 

And it makes Tony smile too.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meaningless fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for all the love and support during this, it’s really helped my motivation with staying on top of this updating schedule. And the extra smiles your comments bring are always a pleasure!
> 
> Moving on, I just want to remind everyone that throughout the chapter, while I continuously say Peter’s three, he’s actually just turned four. Since only Harley knows this right now, whenever anyone else is referring to his age, they say he’s three. Also, due to neglect he has the behavioral habits and physical size of someone a year or two younger than him. Don’t worry though, our boy’s still too smart for his own good :)

“I know that face.” Pepper says, waggling a finger at Tony as she comes into the room. “I don’t like that face.” 

 

Tony’s smiling, watching Harley and Peter as they sit in the living room, toying with cars, teddy bears and potato gun prototypes. 

 

It’s only been a few minutes since his life altering conversation with Harley and Tony’s still feeling good about his decision. This picture: these two boys together, playing and  _ smiling _ , help to  confirm his feelings. 

 

“Tony.” Pepper says again, voice sharp with annoyance. “Are you going to tell me about the kid?” Tony takes a moment more to look at the boys before turning to Pepper.

 

“Harley’s been here a while, Pep.” He says. “Thought that by now, you would’ve gathered he’s staying.” 

 

“The  _ other  _ kid, Tony.” Pepper sighs. “The toddler?” Peppers giving him the look that says  _ not a joking matter _ . From Pepper it also warns Tony that he’s digging himself into some deep shit.

 

“Right, yeah, he’s Harley’s little brother.” Tony says, sipping on a cocktail glass of apple juice. He has been trying to cut down on his alcohol intake since Harley’s been around, one of the requirements from the social worker and himself. He remembers his father drinking a lot through this childhood, he doesn’t want the same for Harley. Well, Harley and  _ Peter,  _ now.

 

“Harley has a little brother?” Pepper asks, face screwed up in shock and confusion. 

 

“Huh, wonder if I looked like that when I found out.” Tony jokes. “But yeah, Harley’s got a brother and the kids staying.” 

 

“Do you have the papers for that?” Pepper asks knowingly.

 

“Well, not yet. I figured I cash in a favor from you.” Tony says, pulling her to him. They’ve had an on and off thing going recently. Whenever Tony screws up, goes out jumping into a fight or makes a rash decision about the company she gives him the silent treatment. 

 

He hasn’t made any drastic mistakes recently.

 

“And what might that favor be from?”  Says Pepper as she accepts the touch and leans into his hold. 

 

“I don’t know. I have this weird feeling I went to a board meeting this morning?” He smirks, resting his hands on her hips. 

 

“I’m supposed to convince CPS to allow the adoption.” Pepper deadpans. By now, she is used to Tony’s shenanigans. 

 

“It’s one of your super powers, Ms. Potts.” Tony says. “Might help that I'm a billionaire.” 

 

“I think there's more than just that helping you.” She whispers, pecking a quick kiss on his lips. She breaks apart from him and makes towards the elevator “I hope you know this isn’t going to be easy.” She says.

 

“Since when did you like things easy?” Tony calls back to her, hearing Pepper huff a laugh as the elevator doors close. 

 

When he returns from rinsing his now empty glass out in the sink, the boys have moved from the couch to the floor. They’re sitting so close that Peters practically on top of Harley, the older boy rubbing a hand through the youngers knotted curls.

 

“So, Peter.” Tony begins as he comes to sit on the coffee table in front of them. “How would you feel about a warm bath?” He's been itching to get that kid clean since he first laid his eyes on him. Tony almost feels dirty himself just from  _ looking  _ at the boy. 

 

Peter smiles, turning to Harley excitedly.

 

“Can I?” He asks, bouncing in place.

 

“Sure.” Harley says, stealing a glance at Tony. The man can tell that the older boy still doesn’t completely trust him, especially not when it comes to Peter. They still have a lot of progress to make. “How about I help you tonight so Tony can see how we do things?” He asks the boy. Tony can read right through his cover up. What Harley means is:  _ let me do it because there’s no way Tony Stark knows how to bathe a kid. _

 

It probably for the better, if Tony’s honest with himself. He really doesn’t have any idea.

 

He watched from the doorway as Harley started the tap, stopping to check the water before he helped Peter undress. The boy in question is tiny, sharp ribs protruding from his chest and knees so knobby they could be door handles. Peters small, downright  _ tiny,  _ and just the sight of him makes Tony want to order a buffet of food. The boys’ prominent spines and dulled skin show how malnourished the State’s failing system has left them. 

 

Harley has been ravenous in the time that he’s been with Tony. He seems to be constantly hungry, and even more so than just a growing teenage boy should be. It’s not like the boy’s enormous food intake bothers Tony, it’s not that at all, it just worries him. That and the boys submissive, go with the flow attitude.

 

When Tony had first made the rushed decision to adopt Harley, he had secretly been terrified. He had absolutely no clue how to raise a kid, and luckily Pepper dealing with the legalities of the adoption had allowed him to do his reading. A lot of the websites and mommy blogs he found all warned new parents that adopted teens could lash out while they were adjusting. But Harley? He just seemed  _ scared  _ to do anything that seemed even a bit out of line. 

 

The last time Tony checked, he hadn’t even  _ made _ a line. 

 

Although, now that he saw the two boys together and new Harley has a little brother, it seemed to make more sense. There was something, some _ one _ , that had needed Harley. Harley had needed to grow up faster, to be the adult when all the others had failed them. 

 

Peter was overly polite as well. Calling him  _ Mr. Stark _ and all. Tony should probably give the boy some time to show his personality, he’s counting his chickens before they’ve hatched. 

 

Peter and Harley have a routine during bath time, Tony can tell. Let the tub fill, undress, hair, body, rinse and get out. It’s efficient, he'll give them that but, a little dull. Even as uneducated on the subject as he is, Tony knows there should be time to play along with the bath. Little boys like Peter should have voluminous bubbles to splash about and countless of little plastic bath toys to get stuck in the drain. There should be more than a few inches of water. More to the bath than just efficiency. 

 

Nevertheless, Tony watches. It’s not his place to say anything, not just yet. He needs to let the boys do their own thing, he needs to take his time to learn how they live and what they do and what they like. He needs to establish a bond with them and grow that relationship before he starts making decisions and working his way into their dynamic. At least, that’s what he read on the mommy blogs. 

 

He still had no idea what he was doing. 

 

Still, when Harley moves to redress Peter in the grimy clothes the boy was wearing at his arrival, Tony can’t help but cut in. 

 

“Wait.” He says. “I’ll call someone to bring up new clothes.” Harley looks at him skeptically, and Peters eyes are wide with surprise. It saddens Tony that these boys still aren’t sure this is all real.

 

He holds up a hand as a signal to wait and leaves the room, tugging his cell phone out of his pocket. He calls Happy while he searches his own room for a temporary replacement. 

 

“Happy Hogan.” Says a man’s monotone voice when the line is picked up. 

 

“Add a little more pep to your step.” Tony says, opening his t-shirt drawer.

 

“Why,  _ you _ called.” Happy grunted. “You only call when you want something.” Tony winced. He had to hand it to the man, that  _ was _ usually the case. He made a mental note to shoot Happy a friendly text every now and then. 

 

“We-ell, since you asked.” Tony said, chuckling when he heard the man sigh on the other end. “I need you to pick up some things for a toddler.” 

 

There was a moment of silence over the line, the other man frozen with confusion.

 

“Should I ask  _ why _ ?” Happy says.

 

“Probably not.” Tony advises. “Just go to the store, pick up some clothes and dailey items. Try and be snappy about it.” 

 

“Tony, I have no idea what a toddler needs.” Happy says.

 

“He’s three, just ask a worker. Oh, and Happy? I’d rather you over do it than under do it.” With that, Tony pulls the phone away from his face and ends the call. Whatever problems occur on that forefront are Happys to deal with, now. Tony has more pressing matters, like figuring out whether they should get burgers or pizza for dinner and what t-shirt would look better on an underfed three year old: AC/DC or Stark Industries.

 

***

 

Tony ends up settling with the Stark Industries shirt, if only because it’s Pepper’s, and therefore smaller. Still, when he watches Harley slide it over Peter's small frame, he frowns at how the fabric still swallows the boy, and comes down to his feet. His fingers itch to fatten these boys up.

 

_ Well.  _ He thinks.  _ I guess that means dinner time.  _

 

“Clothes are on the way!” Tony exclaims, clapping his hands. He notes not to make that a habit when he sees the way it makes Peter flinch. “I was thinking we could go out to dinner? Pizza or burgers?” He asks.

 

Peters face lights up at the suggestions and he hurriedly pulls on Harley’s pant leg so he can whisper something in his older brothers ear. Tony watches, letting the boys do their thing.

 

Harley smiles at whatever Peter has said and turns to Tony.

 

“He wants to go to Burger King.” He says. 

 

“Please!” Peter adds, ever the polite one.

 

“Yeah, he wants to go to Burger King  _ please.”  _ Harley amends. Tony beams at the casualness of it all, how Harley’s getting comfortable enough to ask for something. Before, the boy had been timid and shy, avoiding making any requests or comments other than ‘thank you’ and ‘yes sir’.

 

“That sounds perfect.” Tony agrees. There’s a small battle in his head then, while he struggles to make a quick decision. “Okay, Harls why don’t you go clean up and Peter and I can see what’s on TV?” It’s a leap he’s barely willing to take; suggesting that Harley step away for a moment and leave Tony alone with Peter. Harley eyes him warily, eyes flashing a silent threat before nodding and kneeling down to Peters height.

 

“I’ll be quick, bud.” He promises, trying to soothe Peters obvious apprehension. “Tony’s cool, if you need something just ask him and if you want me you can come and get me, okay?” He brushes Peters hair out of his face as he talks, voice soft and calm but not babying the younger boy either.

 

“Promise?” Peter asks, brown eyes big. Tony can’t help but notice how much they make the boy look like Bambi from the movie Pepper had made him watch. He wondered if he was going to be seeing a lot more animated movies such as that one in his near future, kids were supposed to like those types of things after all.

 

“Always, bud.” Harley nodded, pulling his hand away from Peters cheek and moving to his room to collect a fresh pair of clothes for his shower.

 

“So, kiddo.” Tony says, trying to match the tone Harley had, had. He doesn’t want to sound like he’s talking down to Peter, but he doesn’t want to seem too sharp or stern either. “What kind of shows do you like?” He asks.

 

Peters brow furrows as he follows Tony to the living room, trailing behind slightly. 

 

“I dunno.” He says, voice small and almost a whisper, much weaker than it had been around Harley. 

 

Tony takes in the expected information, he hadn’t really expect Peter to have watched a lot of TV. It seemed too ‘posh’ for the neglectful childcare system he had been hearing about. Besides, even if TV was something Peter watched a lot of, he hadn’t really expected the three year old to remember the names of his favorite shows.

 

“That’s alright, I’m sure we can find something.” 

 

They do find something, some show about a scientist named Bill…. something. Tony would have thought it a little old for someone as small as Peter, but the boy seems captivated by the screen. Much more so than he was by the cartoon Tony had tried first. 

 

“You can sit on the couch, you know.” Tony suggests when he notices Peters been standing for a handful of minutes. The kid glances at him, eyes calculating like he’s trying to decide if this is some kind of trick. It saddens Tony. “You saw Harley sitting on it earlier, right?” He tries instead, when Peter doesn’t make a move. “It’s okay, I promise. Couches are for sitting on.” 

 

Peter glances at him again, small fingers playing with the extra fabric of the oversized t-shirt. Happy should be coming with the clothes soon. 

 

“Promise?” Peter asks, just like he had done with Harley earlier. 

 

“Yeah kiddo, I swear on my arc reactor.” Tony says and, to his satisfaction, the boy nods and hauls himself onto the couch. It’s the cushion farthest away from where Tony sits but, hey, progress. 

 

Happy comes out of the elevator some minutes later, just when the science guy is about to demonstrate a reaction by mixing sodium polyacrylate and water. Tony pretends he’s not a little sad he missed the reveal. 

 

“Hey, Hap!” He greets the man, turning around from where he sits. “Got the goodies?” 

 

“Yeah…” Happy trails, glancing at Peter from where the boy eyes the man, fingers twisting in the shirt. It must be a nervous habit,  _ like Harley’s  sweatshirt strings,  _ Tony notes.

 

“Happy, this is Peter.” He says, nodding to the kid. “He’s Harley’s little brother.” He adds.

 

Happy's eyes soften in realization, though he’s still a little confused. Not that Tony can blame him, he’s still a little confused himself. 

 

“Right.” Happy mutters. “I got the what the lady told me to.” He says, thrusting three black shopping bags into Tony’s face. 

 

“Well,” Tony says, “I did say go overboard.” He takes the bags and sets them on the floor in front of the couch. “Lets see what we’ve got here, yeah Pete?” Peter nods, scooting closer at the excitement of new things. 

 

As Tony rifles through the bags the more nervous he becomes and the more out of his league he realizes he is. Half the things in here he hadn’t even  _ thought  _ about, much less planned on purchasing. There were pajamas, underoos and shirts and pants and socks, a few sippy cups and stuffed animals. Toothpaste and baby shampoo, a plastic boat for the bath. Some coloring books and a pack of pull-ups and a small pair of light up sneakers that look like they could fit a  _ doll.  _

 

Tiny children were so unbelievably  _ fragile.  _

 

Tony huffed a breath, looking at the bags with an overwhelmed stare. Now or never, he supposed. 

 

He was about to suggest Peter pick out an outfit, about to ask if he needed help when Harley walked in. The boys hair was still wet and his clothes were slightly wrinkled and he had no doubt come straight out of the shower.  _ These boys.  _

 

“Those the clothes?” He asks, pointing to the bags at Tony feet.

 

“Yup, go crazy.” He says, choosing instead to sit by and watch again. Learn what Peter wore and how he preferred things before trying to handle the reigns himself.  _ Just follow the mommy blogs. _

 

Harley grabbed the first bag and began shifting through it, pulling out a pair of small blue jeans a red shirt. He moved onto the second, pausing when he saw the coloring books. Tony’s heart squeezes again,  _ did these boys not have toys before?  _

 

Harley comes away with a pull-up and a pair of tiny socks before moving to Peter, who had slid off the couch to better examine the contents of the bags. The TV is now mindless background noise.

 

Dressing the boy is a simple task, and Peters helpful in lifting each leg when needed and moving his arms as instructed. 

 

Tony grins as the boy’s eyes go wide when he catches sight of the light-up sneakers. 

 

“Thank you, Mister Stark!” He exclaimed, turning to Tony with a wide smile. His baby teeth are precious. 

 

“Your welcome.” Tony says. 

 

He thinks he could get used to this. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter was basically just a filler, the next one will have both fluff and plot (promise!).
> 
> I did wants y’alls opinion though. For the future should I stick with PEPPERONY or should I switch to STONY? I love both and can’t decide! Leave your opinions down in the commments please :) 
> 
> Thanks for reading! See y’all Wednesday


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for all the kind comments on the last chapter, it really makes my day to see all of those. 
> 
> It sounded like most of y’all want Pepperony so, for now, I’m thinking of aiming in that direction. I will say though, that the majority of this fic is going to be focused on Tony and his relationship with the boys.
> 
> Have a happy chapter :)

The trio of boys decide to walk to the nearest Burger King, both due to the lack of car seat (which apparently is a legally required necessity) and because of the close vicinity of the restaurant.

 

Harley is quiet as they walk, holding onto to Peters hand. The small boy had wedged himself between Tony and Harley as they were leaving, grabbing onto each of their hands. Tony didn’t know if it was his young age or his shorter amount of time in the system, but Peter was far more easily trusting than Harley. 

 

Perhaps it was a personality trait. He still doesn’t really  _ know  _ these boys, not when it comes down to it. 

 

Nevertheless, he finds himself enjoying the walk. Even through the quiet, it’s nice. The late summer/early fall air is warm but there is a cool breeze. Harley’s trying to cover the smirk he’s directing at his brother while Peter skips and hums a song, doing his best to make the lights in his shoes flicker and flash. The red and blue LEDs illuminated the sidewalk in front of them.

 

“What are you going to get, boys?” Tony asks, picking Peter up by his arm as they walk, making the boy laugh.

 

“Burger n’ fries!” Peter shouts. The kid seems to have exactly two volumes: inaudibely quiet and ear splitting. 

 

“Sounds perfect bud, and to drink?” Tony asks. He casts a glance at Harley but he’s not going to force the boy to talk if he doesn’t want to. The mommy blogs advised that if possible, you let the kids come to you themselves. 

 

“Wha’ c’n I have?” Peter asks, shining big brown puppy dog eyes up at Tony. The man thinks, kids probably  _ aren’t  _ supposed to have soda, especially not tiny three year old kids when it’s nearing night time. 

 

“How about a juice or chocolate milk?” Tony suggests, hoping it’s the right call. He’s honestly still in the dark about this whole small children thing. The only time he’s been around kids as young as Peter has been at expos or meet and greet events when he’s taken photos with them. Never for more then five minutes and he was never  _ responsible  _ for them. Tony doesn’t even know where someone Peters age stands developmentally wise, and that’s even with his genius level IQ.

 

“A’ble juice!” Peter exclaims, smiling and swinging all three of their arms. Tony smiles, Peter  _ likes apple juice, noted. _

 

“What about you, Harls?” He asks, trying to at least make sure the boy knows he’s being included. He read somewhere that ‘sibling jealousy’ flourished in fostered children. 

 

“Whatever your having is okay.” Harley mutters, kicking a loose pebble as he walks. It bugs Tony that he can’t figure out why the boy has so suddenly mellowed out.

 

“He likes bu’gers too.” Peter informs Tony. “And, uh…. Dr. Pepper!” Tony smiled, the more information about these boys’ likes and dislikes, the better. 

 

“Well then if that’s what he wants, that’s what he can get.” Tony agreed. He was aiming to make sure that the boys knew they could have whatever they wanted. There was nothing ‘off limits’ and no food rations when it came to food in Tony’s house. Except maybe soda for Peter, the boy was energetic enough as it was. 

 

Harley glanced at Tony with a certain spark of distrust and an underlying hope. He still wasn’t so sure about all of this. He was still nervous all of this was a trick, that soon the last couple months with  _ the  _ Tony Stark would all be flushed down the drain and a new, more realistic reality would take over. 

 

The bright lights of Burger King distracted him from his spiraling thoughts. 

 

“We’re here, we’re here!” Peter chanted as he struggled to yank open the door five times his size. Tony chuckled at the kids antics. If Tony had ever thought Harley had energy, he had to think twice when he saw Peter.

 

“I’ll order the food, you kids can pick where we sit.” Tony said. “Burger, fries and Dr. Pepper good for you, Harley?” Tony asked. The boy nodded before ushering Peter away. Tony could only sigh.

 

When he returned from ordering their food, after surprising the couple of teens behind the counter, Harley was whispering to Peter, his own hands on the other boy’s face. The oddity of the scene caused Tony to subconsciously quicken his pace.

 

“Your not a baby anymore, Peter.” Harley was saying. “I thought I had finally got you to stop doing that.” He snapped. Tony paused in his steps, even in the few hours he had known of Peter, he had never heard Harley use that tone with the boy. 

 

“Ms. Vivi didn’ care.” Peter grouched around the thumb that Tony now realized was planted in the boy’s mouth. 

 

“Well I do.” Harley said, pulling the digit away from the boy’s face. “And that woman didn’t know  _ shit  _ about kids.” 

 

“ _ Hey.” _ Tony snips, stepping in. “Language.” 

 

Harley whips around. Eyes narrowed, comeback ready on his lips.

 

“Hey, Pete.” Tony changes tone, using a much softer voice towards the little boy. “I forgot to give a tip to the nice workers behind the register, think you can do that for me?” He asks, digging a fifty out of his pocket and handing it to Peter. Peter nods, smart enough to still see the obvious reason for his departure but polite enough to take off towards the counter nonetheless. 

 

“What was that about?” Tony asks once Peter is safely out of hearing range. 

 

“Peter, he’s behind on  _ everything _ !” Harley whisper yelled. “If those people at the orphanage had just cared more, he wouldn’t be so messed up.” Tony’s face hardened.

 

“That kid is  _ not  _ messed up.” He affirmed. “And I know you don’t think that.” He said, softer. The kids at the counter were talking to Peter, thanking him for the generous amount of money and cooing over the boy.

 

“No.” Harley sighed. “I love him, he just…. you have no idea how he is. You don’t  _ know  _ him.” 

 

“But I want to.” Tony soothed. “And I know he’s sweet and that he’s smart. He’ll learn quickly.” Tony stood by that. Peter  _ was  _ smart, understanding the show they had been watching not an hour earlier. The way that he talked and said please and thank you. Yes, of course there were gaps that his countless caretakers had neglected to fill but there was still time. Plenty of time if you asked Tony. Although Harley’s concern did make Tony really consider reading up on the developmental stages of kids. 

 

“Your not leaving us, right?” Harley asks. The question is so sudden, so out of the blue that it shocks Tony into gaping silence. It seems he had reached the route of Harley’s suddenly non verbal issue. 

 

“Of course not kid. That’s what I’m trying to make clear to you. I’m in this for the long run.” Tony reached across the table, taking Harley’s hand in his own and running his thumb along the boy’s knuckles. It’s something that Jarvis has always done to him when he was younger, usually to calm a young Tony down after an argument with his father.

 

“It’s just that, Peter can’t take that.” Harley continues. “I know he looks happy and he acts like it doesn’t bother him but, it does. He cries a lot and he has nightmares every night and… he doesn’t even remember mom.” Harley finishes, voice quiet by the end. Tony thinks this has a lot more to do with than just Peter. 

 

“I’m never leaving either of you.” Tony promises, squeezing Harley’s hand. “I don’t know what you’ve drugged me with, but it must have been the good stuff because I’ll fight tooth and nail for you kids.” Harley gives a wet laugh, looking up as Peter and a worker approach. The uniformed teen carries a tray of food.

 

“Here you are, gentlemen.” He says, Peter trailing behind him. “Three burgers, two large fries, a Coke, a Dr. Pepper and one  _ very  _ special apple juice.” He winks at Peter as he says the last thing, the toddler smiling as he hauls himself into his seat with some assistance from Harley.

 

“Wow, what great service.” Tony laughs. He thinks the teens must have been side eyeing his and Harley’s conversation, distracting Peter until they were finished and then bringing to food over personally to get the boy back in his seat. 

 

“No problem, Mr. Stark.” The kid smiles, retreating back to the gaggle of his peers behind the counter. What Tony thinks is the girlfriend of the teen is giddy at the exchange. 

 

“Wow.” Peter breathes, looking at the table with wide eyes and a matching grin. “Look how much food!” He exclaims before glancing at Tony in a silent ask for permission. Harley is doing the same.

 

“Let’s eat!” Tony says, some stress dissolving when the boys both happily take their food and begin to dig in. “Maybe after, we'll see about some ice cream.” 

 

“You really don’t have to do that Tony.” Harley says, taking a sip of his soda. 

 

“No.” Tony agrees. “I don’t. But I  _ want  _ to.” He says, taking a bite of his own burger.  _ Perfect.  _

 

“O-okay.” Harley stammers. Before repeating: “Okay” with a little more confidence. 

 

“I’m gonna get chocolate.” Peter proudly states, hungrily taking in his long awaited apple juice. 

 

***

 

“We have a situation Tony.” Pepper says through the phone. Tony and the boys had just returned from their junk food extravaganza and the two kids were currently seated on the couch in the living room, searching for a movie for the three to watch. Pepper had called Tony just as he sat down,  _ typical.  _ But, with the current circumstances, he wasn’t going to pull his usual and just  _ not  _ answer.

 

His heart quickens at the statement. A simple phrase like that in a scenario as complicated as this could mean an endless amount of things.  _ Bad  _ things.

 

“Which means? Because I think your trying to put me into cardiac arrest, Pep.” He says, rubbing his chest at the phantom pains. At least he  _ thinks  _ their phantom. 

 

“Well,” she begins, “if you had just decided to adopt children  _ normally  _ that wouldn’t be an issue.” She snaps.

 

“That would cramp my style.” 

 

“Tony there’s an issue with the adoption.” She blurts. At the same moment Tony swears he can actually feel his heart coming to a stop. Can feel his muscles seize and his breath catch. ‘ _ There was an issue with the  _ what _?!’ _

 

“What issue, Pep.” He asks apprehensively.

 

“ _ Issues,  _ Tony.” She says. “Peter has an active history of medical complications: Asthma, immunodeficiency, respiratory infections, night terrors and there are reports of two  _ seizures _ .”

 

Tony blanches, that little boy had, had seizures?! 

 

‘ _ You don’t know how he is. You don’t know him.’  _

 

“What does that mean for the adoption?” Tony asks.

 

“Well, not much besides that your going to have to prove you can physically and mentally provide for his medical dependencies.” Pepper says. “What I’m more worried about is the report of multiple incidents of statutory rape. Not only that, but the foster mother that he is currently with has placed a guard on Peter so that while he is under her care, he cannot be adopted.” 

 

Tony runs a hand over his hair and face, pacin with the phone pressed tightly to his ear.  _ Seizures, statutory rape, adoption guard.  _ All relating to a three year old, a kid that hasn’t even been alive long enough to make it into the public school system.

 

“How do we get him out of her care?” He asks. “Is there any way we can bribe ourselves out of this one?” 

 

“I don’t think so, Tony.” Pep sighs, Tony knows she wants this adoption to go through, if only so the boys can be together. “I’ve talked to your lawyers and they seem to think the best and ultimately  _ only  _ course of action is to ask her and if needed, bring her to court. I’ve emailed her with your address and a brief explanation of why Peter was staying the night with you but so far all I’ve heard is silence. If she’s willing to hand over guardianship than this could be easy, if not…” Pepper trails. “Peters  _ young,  _ and his testament isn’t going to count for much in the courtroom.” 

 

“What’s the plan?” Tony asks. 

 

“For now? There’s not much more we can do other than wait.” Pepper says. “If she answers my email I’ll sure to get back to her if not, I’ll send someone to her address tomorrow early afternoon.” 

 

“Where do I stand in this?” He asks.

 

“Well, Mr. Stark.” She says, obviously smirking on the other end. “Until I give you further instructions, how about you get to know those boys.” 

 

Tony smiled, that sounded like a great plan to him. Of course all of the sudden complications with the adoption upset him, as did the revelations about Peters past and medical history but, there wasn’t much to be done about that until he could have a long sit down conversation with Harley. For now, there wasn’t much more he could do than change into sweatpants and have a much deserved movie night. 

 

When Tony returned to the living room the boys were sitting on one side of the couch, Peter bouncing excitedly as Harley finished cueing up  _ Empire Strikes Back. _

 

_ ‘The boy’s like Star Wars, noted.’  _

 

“So, pajama time and then movie?” Tony asks. He’s assuming the boys would rather be comfortable, even if they would never request a moment to change, and decided offering himself was the easier route. Harley nodded, making to get off the couch. 

 

“Can you help Peter?” He asked on the way to the bedrooms. The prospect made Tony nervous but, then again, it’s not like he was helping the toddler with  _ bedtime. _ This was just a quick change into pajamas and the proposal meant Harley was beginning to believe the promises from their earlier conversation. Besides, if Tony was as serious as he said he was about adopting these kiddos, he would have to get used to taking care of a little one. Better now than never, he supposed. 

 

“Yup, come‘ on Pete.” 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was a little discouraged with this chapter, not going to lie. I wanted to add a little more plot to the end but, that’s going to have to wait until the next chapter. Anywaayyyy, can we get some applause for more mindless fluff?

“What pajamas, Pete?” Tony asked, sifting through one of the bags. He had stored them in the guest bedroom directly across from his own. It was originally intended for Harley, but the older boy preferred one down the hall, with more privacy. 

 

Peter peers into the bag, looking at the assortment. Happy had got a small starter collection of three different pairs: NASA space footie pajamas, which zipped up in the front and were coated in soft fuzz, some Avengers footies and an Iron Man set. It wasn’t egotistical if Tony wasn’t the one who had purchased them, right?

 

“Iron Man!” Peter squealed at the sight of the soft cotton set, beaming a toothy smile up to Tony. He bounced on his feet with excitement.

 

Tony chuckled, internally stunned by the choice. His heart fluttered at the thought, him, a little boy’s first pick? With all the times he had disappointed and screwed up? Yet again, he had to remind himself, this was Iron Man that Peter was excited about. Iron Man didn’t screw up, he didn’t have the room for it, the failures were left to Tony Stark. 

 

“Iron Man it is then, kid.” Tony said, smiling regardless of his recent thoughts. The kid’s cheer was infectious. Not messed up in the least.

 

Peter giggled as Tony guided the both of them into the bathroom next door. He was slightly more cautious of his movements now that Pepper has revealed the details of Peters mistreatment but the boy hadn’t seemed at all uncomfortable before and Tony didn’t want him to begin to because of a change on his part.

 

‘Kids are like clay.’ He had thought he had heard somewhere, perhaps on TV or from his mother many years ago. ‘They bounce back and reshape themselves.’ 

 

God, how he hoped that was true.

 

“What’s yo’ favo’ite Star Wars movie Mister Stark?” Peter asked, eyes wide and hopeful for the answer. Tony blanked on an answer for a moment, trying to think back to when he had first seen the films and what content had belonged to which. He didn’t remember them one hundred percent and was unsure of the truthful answer. Instead, he used deductive reasoning and decided to go with the film that was currently cued on his living room television. 

 

“A New Hope.” He said, kneeling on the ground in front of the boy. Peters face lit up.

 

“Thaz’ a good'un!” He said, lifting his arms so Tony could pull off his shirt. “It’s Harley’s favo’ite. I like Empire St’ikes Back.” He proudly declared, voice muffled by the material of his pajama shirt as Tony pulled it over his head. The kid wasn’t making it nearly as easy as it had looked to be with Harley. With his brother, he had been completely cooperative but, with Tony, Peter was an absolute wiggle worm. 

 

“Well then I guess we’ll have to watch that one another night.” Tony smiled. It seemed like he was going a lot of that lately. 

 

Peter nodded enthusiastically, chestnut curls bobbing at the motion. 

 

They talked more as Tony helped the boy. Peter animatedly chatting about his favorite parts of the movie and how he had wished for a Star Wars lego set a while back. He hadn’t gotten the set but the boy insisted the dream he had had about building it had been satisfactory enough.

 

This kid.

 

Tony almost felt guilty as he assisted the boy, helping the toddler into a fresh pull-up and the matching pajama pants. There were so many things that he had never even thought about. For some reason he had never realized how many foster or orphaned children there were in the New York area, or just in general for that matter. Even worse, is that he knew what it was like to lose your parents but, in his grief, he had allowed himself to get lost in his own world. He had turned to more drinking, to soothing himself. There was a world of kids hurting just as much as he, if not worse.

 

The money he had inherited spent on liquor was doing nothing to lessen his current guilt. 

 

He supposed it wasn’t all his fault. He was grieving, handling the sudden tragedy in the way he knew how: by falling dependent on his vice.

 

Alcohol.

 

It was better he do something now, he supposed, than nothing at all.

 

***

 

Tony remembered watching the sum of the Starwars movies with Rhodey back when they were at MIT. It was probably a good thing that he did, looking back at it now, since he had no idea what had taken place on the tv screen in the last hour and forty-five minutes. It wasn’t that he wasn’t a fan of the film, he appreciated their complex plot and (contrary to popular belief) he actually enjoyed science fiction. Even through the intensity of the movie, he couldn’t help himself finding the boy’s cuddled up next to him all the more interesting.

 

Harley was slouched in his seat on the other end of the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table. It was a position Tony had seen him lie in many times over the short period of time the teen had lived with him. 

 

Peter, the sneak, was using his brothers position to his advantage. The small boy was curled into Harley, his head resting on the older boy’s chest. Peter was using one hand to twirl his curls between his fingers, his other occupied as his thumb stayed firmly planted in his mouth. Harley must have either given up, or not yet noticed, though Tony assumes the former.

 

Tony, feeling a little left out when he had first joined the boys in the living room, had situated himself very close to Peter. This way, the boy’s feet brushed Tony’s thigh. 

 

He should have grabbed some socks for the kid, his feet were freezing.

 

The last bit of the movie passed and the end credits began to roll by, Harley stirring by his side.

 

“Peters asleep.” He said and Tony immediately stiffened. Harley, sensing the man’s excessive caution, was quick to reassure: “Don't worry about waking him. Peters a really deep sleeper, kid will only wake up when he wants to.” 

 

Tony chuckled, posture relaxing. “Good to know.” Harley nodded, looking at the boy dozing between them for a few, slightly awkward minutes.

 

“I heard what you were saying on the phone with Pepper.” The teen admitted, head still hung as to not face Tony. 

 

“Is that so?” Tony questioned. The boy would have to intentionally been eavesdropping, there was no way the kid had heard his phone call all the way from the living room when Tony had been down the hall in his bedroom.

 

“I asked Jarvis, after.” Harley whispered. “When you were helping Peter.” Tony should have suspected his own creation would turn against him, it was bound to happen at some point, after all. 

 

Harley swallowed hard before glancing up at Tony with questioning eyes. “I understand if you changed your mind. He can be a little overwhelming.” Tony chuckled.

 

“Board meetings and the ruthless press are overwhelming, Peters a gift.” He said, looking Harley in the eye. “He’s a good kid.” Tony glanced down at Peter.

 

Harley nodded, fingers combing through the younger boy’s curls.

 

“He’s always been sick.” He started. “Mom had him too early, his lungs were underdeveloped. His immune system was overwhelmed too.” Harley sighed. “I guess they never really made it to one hundred percent.” 

 

Tony studied Peters sleeping face. The boy looked even younger then and impossibly more innocent. His long dark lashes brushed his cheeks, his curls falling into his eyes. His little brown nose was begging to be booped.

 

That was not a thought Tony Stark ever thought he would have.

 

“How old were you?” He asks, looking back up at Harley. “When Peter was born?” He asks, receiving a clarifying nod from Tony. “I was nine. I had just turned ten when our mom was killed.” He finished, surprising Tony with the offering of additional information. 

 

“That sucks.” Tony says. 

 

Harley’s face scrunches, his eyebrows burrowing in confusion as he looks at Tony with wide, shocked eyes. 

 

“What?” He asks.

 

“Would you rather me say I’m sorry?” Tony asks. He knows the kids answer, it’s the same as anyone whose self with grief would be. No. “Trust me, I know how annoying those can become.” He assured.

 

Harley huffs a laugh.

 

“Were they ever not annoying?” He asks. “Seriously, after voice recombination and bluetooth you would think people would come up with a more creative response.” 

 

“It’s insincere.” Tony says.

 

“Pity.” Harley agrees. “Which is not what we wanted.” 

 

“You wanted someone to fill those shoes for you.” Tony supplies, not mentioning how Harley’s eyes are glistening and lined with red. “You didn’t want to have to face the problem, you just wanted it fixed. For it to be like it never even happened.” He said. “All of the “I’m so sorry’s” we’re just reminding you.” 

 

Harley looked shocked, mouth open and gaping. “How did you…?” 

 

“I know the feeling, kid.” Tony said. Harley sobered, nodding.

 

“Yeah I’ve seen the articles.” He whispered. 

 

Tony, sensing the conversation was turning to closely into himself and was in need of a close, sprung up. “Time for bed, don’t you think?” He asked.

 

“Um… yeah.” Harely agreed, taking Peter into his arms as he stood. “Where can I put him?” He asks. Tony leads him down the hall, pointing into the small boy’s new bedroom. 

 

“Right here? I thought it would best if he was across the hall, so I could be close if he needs me?” Tony suggests. 

 

“You don’t have to…” Harley trailed, obviously thinking that no, he should be caring for his little brother if the toddler were to wake at night. He probably thought he should be caring for Peter in general. Not just the hours of the night.

 

“Harley,” Tony started gently, “I meant what I said earlier: I need to be the parent now. Think you can try being the brother, even if it’s just for a test run?” 

 

Harely nods. 

 

“Yeah, Tony.” He says. “Yeah, that sounds good,” 

 

***

 

It was just shy of two in the morning when Tony was woken by a shuffling just beyond his door. Thin streaks of moonlight filtered through the dimmed window, allowing him just enough light to see his bedspread. The clock on his bedside table read the time.

 

“J?” He whispered, moving the sheets aside and swinging his legs to the floor. 

 

“Yes, sir?” The A.I. asked.

 

“What’s that noise?” Tony’s voice is still laced in sleep, he shuffles to the door, his pajama pants dragging on the floor.

 

“I believe young Peter is awake and in distress.” 

 

“What?” “Why didn’t you tell me?” Tony hissed, glaring at the ceiling.

 

“He was quite adamant that I not.” J.A.R.V.I.S explained.

 

“New protocol, J: Baby Monitor. Keep an eye on Peter at all times and for the love of God, tell me when the kids in distress!” He throws the door open, stepping into the hall.

 

“Lights at thirty percent.” J.A.R.V.I.S complys, the lights flickering to life. As they do, Tony can see Peter wandering a little way down the hall, tears and snot running down his face as he tightens the hold he has on his stomach. “Pete?” Tony calls.

 

Peter whips at the sound, eyes wide and scared as Tony makes his way over to the boy.

 

“M’sorry Mr. Tony Stark, Iron Man, sir.” Peter hurries to say, looking up at the man in question. The toddlers eyes are more than just a little glossy.

 

“Why are you sorry, kiddo? What’s up?” Tony asked, kneeling in front of the boy to be more on his level. 

 

“I-I-I don’ ‘member where the potty is.” Peter explained. “M’sorry I woked you up.” He mumbles.

 

“Hey, hey, that’s okay.” Tony’s quick to sooth, using his thumb to brush some tears from Peters cheek. “I was up anyway.” He lies. 

 

“W’eally?” Peter asks. Tony nods assuringly. 

 

“Sure was.” He says. “And I don’t mind showing you to the… potty” wow, Tony never thought he would be using that word, “while I’m up.”

 

He stood and offered his hand to the boy, only to have to awkwardly retract it when it wasn’t taken. He started back in the direction they had first came, where the bathroom was, just beyond the closed door just next to the boy’s bedroom. 

 

For having an IQ as high as he did, Tony really should have realized it sooner. Realized the signs when Peters shuffling became slower, his steps smaller and the boy’s face became increasingly pale. Seen the way his arms were wrapped tightly across his tiny middle or how his face was shiny with sweat. But Tony didn’t, he was still new to this whole tiny child business, the whole kid area in general. He hadn’t seen it, and the next thing he knew there was a terrible sound and the floor behind him was covered in the aftermath of cheeseburgers and ice cream. 

 

Ew.

 

“Oh, kid.” He sighed, turning around (if somewhat reluctantly) to get an idea of the mess. Immediately his mind was deferred from the clean up job and his focus was redirected at the kid. 

 

Peter was one second away from balling, his mouth hung open in stunned disbelief, his eyes wide. His shoulders were bent in as he cowarded back, away from a danger he surely suspected. An anticipated reprimand from Tony no doubt.

 

The sight had Tony pausing in his stride, rethinking his earlier words, which probably weren’t the best to say to a sick child

of abuse.

 

“It’s okay.” He amended. “I’m not mad, let’s just go get cleaned up, yeah?” Tony asked, holding his hand out again. 

 

It seemed the term ‘potty’ could have more than one meaning. 

 

This time, after judging the man with large, calculating down eyes, Peter grasped hold of Tony’s hand and allowed himself to be led to the bathroom. 

 

“J? Run a thermal scan on Peter, get a reading on his temp.” Tony said, quickly reassuring Peter: “It won’t hurt, bud. I just want to make sure your not too hot.” Peter gulped, but nodded. 

 

“Peters temperature appears normal sir: 98.8 degrees fahrenheit.” The A.I’s voice rang. Tony nodded, kneeling on the cool tile floor and opening the cabinet Peters things had undeniably taken over. 

 

“Seems you just ate too much food, kiddo.” He says, pulling out a pack of wipes and taking a few to clean off the boy’s face. 

 

He should be immensely grateful that this little sickness wasn’t anything more, that it wasn’t warranted for the hospital, that it hadn’t resulted in Peter having a fever induced seizure. The idea still scared him to his core.

 

“M’tummy hu’ts.” Peter whined and, much to Tony’s satisfaction, leaned into the touch.

 

“I know kiddo, I know.” 

 

“I believe some warm milk would help soothe Peters stomach?” J.A.R.V.I.S suggests. As well as get him back to sleep. Tony knows is silently tacked onto the end. 

 

“How does that sound, Peter?” Tony asks, tossing the wipes into the trash and brushing some loose curls from the boy’s face. Peter nods, eyes scrunched close in his discomfort.

 

Tony is quick to change Peter into the NASA pajamas, shoving the dirtied Iron Man set down the laundry shoot and carrying the boy -very carefully- to the kitchen. 

 

With the help of J.A.R.V.I.S’ instruction, thank goodness for him, Tony is able to heat some milk to a reasonable temperature and transfer the liquid to a blue and red sippy cup. Peter grabs the offered beverage immediately, drinking greedily. 

 

Eventually, Peters eyes begin to flutter, his body relaxing from where he rests on Tony’s hip, his head resting on the man’s shoulder. He’s tired, and dozing, forcing Tony to hold the sippy cup himself and help guide the remainder of the liquid into the boy’s mouth. 

 

Not before long, Peters asleep. 

 

Tony, Tony Stark, just rocked a toddler to sleep. 

  
For once, Tony feels like he’s finally left Howard in his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy national ice cream day, y’all ;)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The most plot we’ve seen in weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, we’re moving along! The plot train has finally pulled into the station :)

Tony woke up to two very prominent things the next morning. The first, being Peters foot in his face -which ended up being, shockingly, the nicer surprise of the two- and the second, his blaring cell phone. 

 

He was a little shocked that the obscene loudness of the obnoxious noise didn’t wake the boy up (who he had been forced to bring to his bed the night before after Peter secured a vice like grip around the man’s neck), but he guessed it was only proof of Harley’s statement from the night before. 

 

Tony grunted when the ringing continued, closing his eyes in frustration before disentangling himself from the mix of tiny limbs and twisted sheets that had him trapped in the bed. He grappled for his phone, flipping it over once his fingers felt the sleek material. 

 

The caller ID read: _Pepper._

 

He fumbled for the phone, remembering their conversation from the night before and hurried to slide his finger across the screen to answer. 

 

“Yes, yeah? What is it?” He hurried to ask, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the thumb and forefinger of his free hand. 

 

“I just got a return email from Peters foster mother.” Pepper breathed. It was hard to tell her emotion through just her voice. It’s sounded even and calm to Tony, but there's an underlying concern and Pepper is far too good at concealing her emotions. Is the email bad enough to warrant concern? 

 

“And?” He prompted, heart thumping nervously. “What did she say?” He sat up more straightly, rubbing a hand through his sleep tousled hair. 

 

“Not much, she seems like a prick if I’m being honest. She did say she wants to meet with you, this afternoon.” Pepper said. “Something about the coffee shop by Central Park and making _‘arrangements’_? Whatever that means.” 

 

Tony chuckled. Sighing at the end. This whole process was confusing, jumbling his emotions.

 

“A prick, fantastic. Did she give a time?” He asked. Peter is still breathing soft, sleep laced puffs beside him.

 

“Yeah, two o’clock.” Pepper read. “And please, for the love _of God,_ Tony.” Pepper stressed, so much so that Tony could practically feel her incoming migraine himself. “Please try and be on time.”

 

“I’ll take your advice into consideration, Ms. Potts.” Tony responded, smirking. “But _you_ did say she was a prick.” 

 

“ _Tony-“_ Pepper begins to reprimand, voice cutting off when Tony ends the call. He sets the phone back down on the bedside table, allowing his head to fall back and bang against the headboard. 

 

“Owie.” Came a small voice at his side. He looked down to his left, bleary brown eyes peeking from behind ringlets of curls. Tony huffed a laugh at the reaction. “You meetin’ Ms. Vivi?” Peter asked, voice slightly slurred with sleep. 

 

“You heard all of that, kid?” Tony asked. The kid had been _sneaky,_ Tony could have sworn that he had been asleep the whole call. Nevertheless, Peter nodded. “Fuck, kid. You have good hearing.” 

 

Peter squinted, tilting his head to the side.

 

“Fuck?” He asked, obviously confused by the new word. Tony’s eyes widened, panicked. Little kids need sensoring, _right. Shit._

 

No, _crap_. Ugh, this was going to be hard.

 

“No, no, no. Pete those are grown up words.” He hurried to explain. It wouldn’t do to have Harley hear Peter use that kind of profanity. Especially _right_ after Tony had just gotten the teen to loosen his grip on the reigns of parenting. “You can’t say those words until you can knock one back, yeah?” He explained, wincing at his choice of explanation. Definitely _did not_ have this whole parenting this down just yet. 

 

“Huh?” Peter asked, head tilted in confusion. 

 

“Never mind. Just don’t say that word, okay?” This wasn’t going well. At all. But Peter was a good kid, right? One who listened and wouldn’t go around saying things like _fuck._

 

Hopefully.

 

That would not go over too well in a courtroom, or with Pepper. Toy shivered, _that_ was a scary thought. 

 

“M’kay.” Peter agreed, nodding. 

 

Tony huffed a relieved sigh. He had gotten an agreement, even if there was a slyness to the kids smile and a mischievous glint in his eye. Peter was smart, he knew time and place. As long as he didn’t say it in _public._

 

Yeah, Tony was so screwed. 

 

***

 

Metal silverware clinked on the delicate porcelain of the bowls, the happy chattering of children’s cartoons doing little to muffle the sound. Harley had joined them in their pajamas fest and Tony, not having near enough groceries in the house, had suggested the quick fix of cereal for breakfast. 

 

Besides, something lighter would be easier on Peters, apparently, sensitive stomach. Much better than pancakes and bacon. 

 

The kid himself had been seemingly _appalled_ at the idea of his Cheerios and milk touching (how _dare_ Tony for making that mistake) and was instead opting for munching on fistfulls of dry cereal and a sippy cup of milk. 

 

(The Cheerios were being eaten out of a lidless sippy cup after Harley had -quite wildly- shook his head at the near use of porcelain. An idea which, considering the boy of origination, was pretty genius. Afterall, Tony had only been with Peter for sixteen hours and could already tell the toddler was beyond clumsy. Tony would have to get some plastic ware for meal times.) 

 

Harley had more cereal than milk as well but, like the civilized adult he tried so hard to be, ate his in a bowl with milk and a spoon. 

 

Still, with both of the two boys ( _especially Peter)_ Tony didn’t doubt he’d have enough cereal in between his couch cushions to satisfy a second serving by the time the kids declared themselves finished. And strangely enough, he didn’t find himself minding that. 

 

Harley seemed more relaxed than he had last night, feet curled and criss crossed beneath him as he munched on his breakfast. His hair was still messy from sleeping, dirty blond locks and curls pointing every which direction. His eyes were even still somewhat bleary, as if his body hadn't completely woken up yet. 

 

His eyes didn’t constantly flash to check on Peter either, a habit Tony had easily picked up on the night before. The teen seemed satisfied that if his little brother were to need something, he would come to him himself, or (and wasn’t this exciting?) entrusted Tony to take care of it. 

 

It was a big development from the night prior. Their trust was much stronger than it had been only mere weeks ago. Tony supposed it was the months spent in the lab together, he forced into trusting each other’s mechanical knowledge and basic common sense for safety. 

 

One thing that was obvious to Tony about these kids, was how goddamn _early_ they both seemed to wake up. 

 

On the days he made it to his bed, dragging himself from his lab before he passed out, he would sleep into the late hours of the morning. Sometimes, even the early afternoon, if Pepper didn’t so rudely invite herself into his home and drag him to any functions.

 

That might be a harder adjustment than the midnight puke escapades. 

 

It just means more coffee. 

 

Speaking of which, Harley was sipping on his very own steaming cup. A treat Tony hadn’t had the heart to deny. 

 

He doubted it was good for the kid (seep was better than caffeine, even _he_ knew that) but by fourteen he had been guzzling the substance to make it through his classes at MIT. In his eyes, thirteen was fourteen and the bags under the poor kids eyes were enough of an excuse in of themselves.

 

It had been a hard couple of days. Weeks. _Months._

 

The show on television was one of those toddler or young kid aimed animations with the talking animals, this one seemed especially partial to dogs _(Paw…. something,_ Tony wasn’t really paying attention _)_ and seemed to have stolen Peters full attention long ago. Cheerios fell from the boy’s tiny wrists as he absentmindedly chewed. 

 

“So.” Tony began, easily grasping Harleys attention. The boy had been looking out the floor to ceiling windows to the side of the screen, watching the city. “Pepper got an email this morning, Peter’s foster mother requested a meeting this afternoon.” 

 

Harley considered the information.

 

“Do we all have to go?” He asked. “Or is this just a you thing?” It wasn’t said with the same bitterness that the phrase would have held months ago, when Harley would spit at the mere thought of someone just _dying_ to meet the great Tony Stark. 

 

“I’m thinking just a me thing, kid.” Tony replied, swirling his spoon around his now empty bowl. That was another thing about these kids, there making Tony actually eat. 

 

Harely nodded, glancing at Peter who, in turn, was still captivated by the show.

 

“We could just stay here?” Harley suggested. “Or wait outside for you? I don’t really want him around her.” The boy was looking nervous again, as if the idea of his baby brother and this supposed witch in the same room gave him the creeps. 

 

Tony just couldn’t wait to meet her.

 

“That sounds good.” Tony nodded. “You can sit in the park across the street. I was thinking you two could do some shopping? Just look on your phone for some clothes and things he might need. Or you, for that matter.” 

 

There were a _lot_ of things Peter would need, most of which weren’t immediate but it was better to be prepared than not to be.

 

“Then when I’m done we can go get the immediate necessities and some groceries?” Tony asked. Harley nodded in agreement, but his face was creased with worry. “What's wrong?” Tony asked.

 

“Doing you think this is going to work?” Harley whispered. “Do you think we’re actually going to be able to win this?” He asked.

 

Tony paused. Harley was old enough, and definitely smart enough, to figure out the basics on his own. But, he was still a kid and stressing the poor boy out about things even Tony himself wasn’t sure about wasn’t going to do anyone any good. 

 

So Tony gave him the most honest answer he could come up with:

 

“I hope so.” 

 

***

 

The coffee shop was small and definitely not Starbucks. There were large leather chairs scattered about, a couch, a coffee table, and a rickety bookshelf filled to the brim with worn novels and picture books. There was a particularly well loved dinosaur one that Tony couldn’t help but think Peter would like. 

 

 _That,_ and the giant chocolate chip cookies in the store’s glass case.

 

He wasn’t there for the treats or books though, and the well dressed women in the corner seemed to be the reason he was thinking of. 

 

She certainly _looked_ like a prick, at least to Tony. She wore a tight, dark violet dress and knee high black boots. Her golden hair was curled to tight ringlets, her perfectly french-manicured nails _tip tapping_ away on her chair’s armrest. 

 

Tony swore he could see his own reflection in the girls lip gloss. 

 

“Tony Stark?” She hurried to greet as she looked him up and down like eye candy. “Pleasure to meet you, I’m Vivian Waters.” 

 

Well, at least she had _some_ manners. 

 

“Nice to meet you.” Tony said, keeping with formalities and shaking her hand. She gripped it with delicacy yet firmly, like she didn’t want to go. “Peters told me a lot about you.“ He redirected.

 

It seemed that, once again, he had started counting his chickens before they hatched.

 

The mention of Peter seemed to snap her out of her vigor. 

 

“Yes, Peter, he’s such a sweetheart.” She smiled, puckering her glossed lips before flashing pearly white teeth. 

 

“Yes.” Tony agreed, the girls demeanor began to saddle into creepy. “He is.” 

 

“And you’ve taken a liking to him?” She asked, voice sickly sweet and venomous.

 

“I adopted his brother not long ago.” Tony supplies. “Harley.” 

 

“Yes.” She said, recognition and disgust overcoming her features. “I know him.” Tony clenched his fists, trying (and struggling) to contain his violence. How _dare_ she talk about his kid like that. 

 

“The boys would be happier together, as they should be.” Tony said. “I’m just trying to mend what was lost when they entered the system.” 

 

“It’s really a shame.” She sighed, inspecting her long acrylic nails before she stood from the chair. “I really like Peter, he’s quiet, and the extra income’s nice.” 

 

“He really would be happier with Harley.” Tony insisted as she came closer.

 

“I like that boy, Mr. Stark.” She said. “Are you sure you wouldn’t be willing to offer me anything for him? I’d be happy with a trade.” She stroked his arm, long fingernails tickling his skin. He stepped back reaching for the door. 

 

“You should watch the news more often.” He said. “Miss Potts has my undying faith.” 

 

Her face hardened at the sound of Peppers name, eyes turning stone cold. She followed him outside to the sidewalk.

 

“No bed, no boy, Mr. Stark.” She scowled. “Now, I’m going to ask you one last time, are you going to give me a special little something in return?” Her voice was sickly sweet again, with undertones of pure evil. 

 

“No.” He said. “I’m hoping you’ll do the right thing for the kids. For Peter.” 

 

“This one’s on _you_ , Stark, _not_ me.” She spat, before turning on her heel and marching down the street. Tony sighed, running his hands through his hair.

 

 _Definitely_ a prick.

 

He turned around, Peter and Harley walking almost right into him. Harley palmed his cellphone, grasping his brothers hand tightly. Peter fiddled with Harley’s prototype Teddy bear, which he had _insisted_ on bringing along. 

 

“Whats up, boys? I thought you were in the park?” 

 

“We _were_.” Harley says. “Peter has to go to the bathroom, I tried texting you but you didn’t answer.” He looks around Tony’s shoulder and down the street. Vivian is nowhere in sight. “Is everything okay?” 

 

“Just _peachy_.” Tony groans just as Peter looks up from his teddy bear. Seemingly _just_ realizing where they are, he perks up and asks:

 

“Ca’ I ‘ave a cookie, p’ease?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m mean, I know. 
> 
> See you again Sunday!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I sincerely apologize for this dumpster fire.
> 
> Maybe if you squint, this chapter will pass as literature.

Tony sighed, running his hands through his hair, if a little harder than necessary. The cushy chair at the beanery seemed too soft and the usually pleasant smell of coffee only aggravated his nose. 

Peter had been properly dealt with, and had rightfully received his cookie, and was now flipping through the dinosaur picture book Tony had spotted not that much earlier. Harely was peering over the boy’s shoulder, listening as Peter rambled about the different variants of the species. 

Tony's thoughts were coming at a mile a minute, every possible ‘what if’ making him more and more nervous than the last. He didn’t know what he would do if he couldn’t get these boys placed together, if he  _ failed.  _ He didn’t know how he would live with himself, didn’t want to even think about how  _ Harley  _ would take things. 

There was a sinking feeling of pure dread sitting in his stomach, the kind of hopelessness he hadn’t felt since Afghanistan and, before that, his parents’ deaths. 

Peter, this downright  _ minuscule  _ child, filled with so much innocence and naivety has no idea his entire future was resting in Tony’s calloused and grease stained fingers. 

Harley wouldn’t be much better off himself. The boy, currently itching learn and tinker, to prove himself, would probably fall down the lonely, reckless path that comes with grief. Down the rabbit while of alcohol and drugs, to busy wishing for the life that  _ could have  _ been to care.

Tony would need to call Pepper. He needed to tell her what had happened, how the conversation had gone. How  _ badly  _ it had gone.

For now, he pecked out a short text to her: 

**Assumptions confirmed; woman’s a prick. Meet us at the penthouse for dinner tn ;)**

She would be disappointed no doubt. Hell,  _ he  _ was disappointed, if mostly in himself. How any interviews and press conferences has he gone to? Had he  _ hosted?  _ Practically from birth he had been the center of the media, swarmed by reporters and questioned by the public. He should have recorded the damn conversation. He should have planned before rushing in, given his nerves time to calm and his head a moment to clear. 

Should have. Could have. Would have. 

_ Didn’t.  _

And now there was nothing he could do but wait. 

At least the witch hadn’t seemed too hurried on getting Peter back. In fact, now that Tony looked back on it, she hadn’t even asked were Peter was, where he had gone off to. If he was  _ okay.  _

That key piece of the conversation would do great against the judge. 

_ If Tony had, had enough sense to recorded the fucking conversation _ . 

He wanted to shoot himself, smack himself over the head, fly his shit into the sun, he wanted to run himself over with his Audi, tie weights around his ankles and throw himself into the river, wanted to do  _ something  _ that wasn’t all that stupid. 

But he had the boy’s. 

He had responsibilities.

And even if it was only half of what he wanted, he still had a secure hold on Harley. He always would, the kid was his adopted  _ son.  _ That was a pretty damn good fifty percent if you asked Tony. 

“M’done!” Peter declared, wiping the cookie crumbs on his hands onto his small blue jeans. Harley grimaced, quickly grabbing napkins and ridding the sticky digits of cookie remnants.

“Perfect!” Tony said, pushing his racing negative thoughts to the back of his mind, putting the boys at the forefront. Peters smile was contentious, and he found himself not having to feign his happiness. “How about we hit the shops, yeah? Happy should be here soon.” 

Despite the situation, Harley smiled too.

Sure enough, not moments later Happy pulled up to the curb outside the coffee house. He was driving his usual choice of car, a black Audi with tinted windows. The newest model of course.

At first, Happy had seemed indifferent when Tony had announced his plans to adopt Harley. The man wasn’t really the kid type, preferring to be miserable alone and dwell in silence, something that definitely  _ didn’t  _ come with children. He had opened up quickly though, actually rather quicker than the rest of Tony’s close friends, driving the boy to the library and the salvage yard. Harley still preferred the public’s books and old scraps to whatever it was Tony offered to buy for him. 

Tony supposed the quick warm up was all because of Harley’s charm. The boy had an aura around him, a personality that is hard not to like. He was smart, genius in fact, but was careful not to flaunt it. He avoided all chat about his traumatic past, avoiding any possible pity. But most importantly in Happy’s eyes: He doesn’t fall much. 

Sure, he rants excitedly when he has a new project idea or wants to tell Happy about the movie he last saw, but he mostly just looks out the window. He’s a watcher and he likes the conversation to have an equal balance of participation. 

Peter was  _ not _ like that.

The trio worked to get in the vehicle, people on the street stopping in their activities to stare at the odd sight. Tony Stark with two  _ children _ , Harley’s adoption was well known by this point (a merger they had decided to make public since it made virtually  _ every  _ matter easier) but Peter was a new addition.

He hoped that wouldn’t negate him in the judges view, the constant attention and publicizing the boy before he even had the slightest bit of legal guardianship for him. It made Tony think of the video and photo consent form he had had to sign when he and Pepper were enrolling Harley in school for the oncoming fall. 

It was too late now, either way. 

They still didn’t have a car seat for the kid, something Tony was absolutely  _ sure  _ fun size three year olds required. They managed though, for the time being that was, placing Peter between Harley and Tony, each with a  protective hand on the kids legs. The seatbelt was  _ far  _ too loose for Tony’s appreciation.

It made him wonder when he had started to become so concerned about things like  _ car safety _ . He  _ never  _ wore a seatbelt. 

The first store they went to was  _ Pottery Barn _ , simple essentials and furniture that couldn’t wait for shipping. 

“He doesn’t really need anything.” Harley promised, trotting around the store with Tony, Peter on his hip. The kid was stroking his teddy bears head, mumbling incoherent things to it. 

“I guess he doesn’t.” Tony agreed, browsing the sections until he came across the designated area for toddlers. “But there are some things that just make life that much easier.” 

Like a small bed, for example. One that the kid wouldn’t be able to fall off of. There was definitely not going to be an adoption if they ended up in the hospital with a busted head. 

“Which one do you like, Pete?” Tony asked, Harley still trying to process the situation. The boy had a hard time accepting the man’s generosity. 

Tony didn’t ever remember picking what was on his room when he was younger. There hadn’t been much to the space at all, only the necessities and endless amounts of text books. Small models he had built in the little free time his father had allowed him. He wanted these boys to have it differently, to feel at home and like their room was their own space. 

He had taken Harley out for decorations immediately, it was only right he did it with Peter as well. Even if, and God forbid, the boy didn’t stay with them permanently, the money it cost to have him comfortable for that short time was worth it. 

The perks of being a billionaire. 

Peter shrugged, looking around at the selection. 

“That one?” He asked, pointed to a small oak colored bed. It was one of the few with guardrails that ran halfway down each side. Tony liked that. A  _ lot.  _

“Good choice, kiddo.” Tony praised, Harley smiled. It was a wholesome compliment, the kid had a good taste.

“Your serious about all this?” He asked, shifting Peter on his hip. Tony wanted to offer to take the boy, but opted to stay quiet and not risk imposing. The question was still being said, repeated over and over like and endless mantra of disbelief. 

Each time, Tony was going to have the same answer:

“As serious as I could ever be.” Tony answered, already adding the dresser, nightstand and toybox to their registry (as well as a car seat for heaven's sake). Harley switched between wide eyes, gaping and smiling.

“Now Pete, what bedding would you like?” He asked to the now, standing boy. 

“Iron Man?” Peter asked, looking around for the hero. 

“You sure about that?” Tony laughed nervously, glancing up at Harley. The damn kid had a shit eating grin on his face. Peter nodded enthusiastically. “Alright then.” 

Where this kid got this fascination with Iron Man from, Tony had absolutely no idea. It was weird, having this child idolize you. Tony felt like he didn’t deserve it, like Captain America was a far better option than himself. 

After all, there was plenty of ‘Mr. America’ merchandise for the boy to change his mind. 

They headed to the toy section last, leaving the excitement for the boy. Peter had previously been stumbling and nearly dozing, tired from missing an afternoon nap Tony hadn’t even thought to offer but had instantly woke up when he sat the aisles of gleaming plastics.

Shelf upon shelf of every kind of toy a young boy could ever wish for stood in front of them. Peter giggled excitedly, running and jumping, his light up shoes flashing crazily. If it promised a smile like this from the kid everyday, Pepper might have to stop Tony from purchasing a toy factory.

It was another thing absent from his own childhood, ridiculously overpriced plastic toys and colorful stuffed animals. His father preferred that he play with wires or tools and, on some days, code. Sometimes he liked it but, most of the time, it had simply made him miserable. 

He didn’t want history repeating itself. 

There were  _ Star Wars _ toys added to the cart by a  _ very  _ apprehensive Peter. Toy received a beaming smile every time the boy received a yes. 

But oh  _ boy  _ the Lego. There were  _ so  _ many Lego.  _ Star Wars  _ and  _ Avengers  _ and  _ Iron Man  _ and dinosaurs and little figures  _ very suspiciously   _ reminiscent of the cartoon they had been watching that morning.

He remembered how Peter had been so excited just to  _ tell  _ Tony about the lego set he had wished for and how happy he had been at simply having a dream about creating the structure. The absolute pure happiness stretched across the kids face was the same excitement, only ten fold. 

The legos kept adding up, the boy’s smile too endearing. There were so many, in fact, that Harley had to stop the boy before Tony could run his account dry (and impossible thing that probably would have become  _ possible _ if Harely hadn’t stepped in and told Peter ‘that’s enough’) . 

Tony just didn’t know how parents had the willpower to say ‘no’ to a face like  _ that _ . 

Suddenly walking around the store and seeing all the small trinkets, seeing Peter so happy to be spoiled and Harley so happy that his baby brothers excitement was wholesome and  _ lasting  _ seemed to dull Tony’s earlier sense of dread. 

He still needs to call Pepper, the rational side of himself knew that. Knew this wasn’t the end of the road and things were about to get a  _ lot  _ harder than the coffee house today but it didn’t seem to matter. What seemed to matter were the two boys laughing in front of him as they made their way back to where Happy was waiting for them in the car. What mattered was that maybe the end was soon, whether good or bad, and when it did come, Tony wanted to have had spent as much time with Harley and Peter a possible. 

After all, these boys were changing him for the better. 

He had just bought toddler bedding with  _ many  _ depictions of his own face on it. 

This was life now, and for all its embarrassment, for all the added stress, he hoped it stayed this way. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is short and for that I sincerely apologize.

The new shopping haul was unpacked rather quickly, toys littering the floor and furniture boxes stacked in the guest room. Tony’s once sleek and rather bare bachelor pad was now looking more like a child’s playroom. A place littered with toys on the living room carpet, stuffed animals seated like people at the dining table and a toddlers plastic cutlery freshly washed and tucked away in the kitchen drawers.

 

It was starting to look like a home. Which was surprising, considering nothing a Stark owned had ever been seen as ‘homely’. 

 

It was something Tony could never have imagined. Even his mansion in Malibu hadn’t felt this way, nor had the childhood home he had shared with his parents. They were all always too sterile, too tidy to feel properly lived in. 

 

Oddly enough, Tony found himself enjoying the mess. It didn’t feel as vacant or lonely as his lab downstairs or his Malibu mansion had before he went and got it blown up. 

 

The smile the new gifts gave Peter were a bonus. The boy was rather fond of his many new stuffed animals and endless supply of Lego, though his teddy bear from Harley remained a favorite.

 

Harley himself seemed pleased as well, happy to see his brother settling so well in the new environment. He was probably relieved more than Tony could imagine. 

 

Pepper, however, didn’t seem to be all that pleased over the mess. Upon her entry, just before dinner time, she raised a questioning eyebrow at the floor before shaking her head, as if to say ‘ _ for another time’,  _ and made her way to where Tony was stationed in the kitchen. 

 

She was in for an even larger surprise when she saw was he was up to.

 

“Are you…  _ cooking _ ?” She asked carefully, keeping a cautious distance from the man and the boiling pot of…  _ something.  _

 

“Carbonara.” Tony said, stirring the contents of the pot before lowering the heat. “My mother’s recipe, she used to make this every Spring.” 

 

What Pepper gathered to be a traditional Italian dish was a rather odd mix of spaghetti noodles, cheese and… eggs? Still, it was sweet to hear a pleasant memory from Tony’s past even though it unnerved her to witness him do something so domestic and responsible as to  _ cook.  _

 

“I didn’t know you could cook.” She said, kneeling down to the wine fridge to select something. “Your consistent record of takeout was deceiving me.” 

 

It was true, many of the local take-out places new Tony’s order by heart and would always start on his order as soon as F.R.I.D.A.Y. made the call. He often had it delivered straight to his lab door so he didn’t even have to make any effort. 

 

He and Harley currently had a streak with the Thai restaurant around the corner.

 

“No use in cooking for only one person.” Tony said, voice flat and concerningly empty. It saddened Pepper but she supposed he had a point, she didn't like to go through all that trouble for only herself either. 

 

“Where are the boys?” She asked instead, attempting to change the subject to something lighter. She always worried about talking too much about Tony’s childhood, fearing she would lead the mechanic into one of his reckless working sprees. 

 

“They’re in Peter's room.” He said, unfazed how quickly the spare room across the hall had become ‘Peter's room’. “Harley’s showing Pete how to build a toddler bed.” 

 

Pepper laughed, imagining a three year old building his own furniture. 

 

“Hopefully you didn’t have him sleeping on the floor last night.” She said jokingly.

 

Tony stills in his chopping, knife raised halfway before resuming and answering:

 

“Actually, he slept with me.” 

 

Peppers eyes widened. Tony didn’t like many people sleeping close to him after the disaster in Afghanistan. Sometimes he didn’t even fancy  _ her  _ near him. He worried he would do something drastic during a nightmare, perhaps lash out at her. Or at least, that’s what he said. Pepper suspected he was more wary of what others would do to  _ him  _ while he slept. 

 

She wasn’t concerned about him hurting Peter, he had never raised a hand to her, in sleep or consciousness. Infact, she was worried about what sleeping with a squirming toddler would do to  _ Tony.  _

 

“He slept with  _ you _ ?” She asked, not bothering to try and hide her surprise. Tony nodded.

 

“We had a little… mishap not long after he went to bed. Then, he wouldn’t stop imitating a koala so I just brought him to bed with me.” And then like an afterthought: “I woke up to his foot in his face.” He said, laughing. 

 

Pepper nearly reeled.  _ Tony  _ did all that? Her Tony? Not so many years ago she had been worried he would accidentally knock up a girl and now he was taking care of a toddler he had taken in by his own will? It was heartwarming and, if she had to admit, rather shocking.

 

“Good for you, Tony.” She smiled, selecting a nice Pinot Noir to go with their meal. He gave her a small quirk of his lips in return. 

 

“Would you go get the boys?” He asked, plating the pasta and mixing a vinaigrette into the arugula salad. She, of course, nodded and made her way to Peters new room. 

 

As she entered, she noticed the place was just as hazardous as the main room. There were tools and spare parts littered across the floor, ripped wrapping and crumpled styrofoam from the packaging spread about. 

 

Harley and Peter sat in the middle of it all, the older trying to show his younger brother how to operate a lug wrench. It was a sweet gesture, though the small bed looked mostly completed to her. 

 

“Boys,” she called, knocking on the doorframe, “dinner.” Peter jumped at her voice, whipping around to stare at Harley and whisper something that looked awfully like ‘ _ We get dinner tonight too?’  _

 

It made Pepper want to cry. 

 

Harley nodded, standing and brushing the styrofoam particles off his jeans before offering his hand to Peter. The little boy took hold of it eagerly. 

 

When the trio returned to the kitchen, Tony was just screwing the cap on a sipping cup full of milk. There were four place settings at the table already, two set with whine, one with the milk and a third with what could have been either bubbly water or soda. 

 

She noted Peter had plastic ware instead of china and that Tony had taken it into consideration to chop the toddlers pasta into smaller, much shorter strands. That, and the small plastic booster in the boy’s seat warmed her heart. 

 

Tony was  _ really  _ serious about all of this. 

 

“This looks amazing, Tony.” Harley complemented as he sat down. 

 

“Thank you Mr. Stark!” Peter smiled, watching Harley so he knew when he was allowed to begin. 

 

“Alrighty, enough of that.” Tony laughed. “Let’s tuck in.”

 

And tuck in they did. By the end of their meal there was food  _ everywhere.  _ On the table, the boys’ chairs and all of the floor beneath where Peter was seated. The plates themselves were mostly clear, except for a little remaining on both Peppers and Peters plates and Tony was deemed an acceptable (more so than that but Harley and Pepper liked to tease) chef. 

 

It felt good, to provide for the boys by doing something for those kids that couldn’t be bought. His parents hardly ever made home cooked meals (except on those few rare occasions, his mother) and he couldn’t recall one time in his entire life that he had shared a meal with both his mother and father. 

 

He remembered lonely nights sitting at the long dining room table by himself, stirring his food around his plate and glancing longingly at the empty chairs, wishing there was someone to occupy them. 

 

He remembered the sympathetic looks Jarvis would shoot him, eyes soft and heart large. If it weren’t for Howard, Tony didn’t doubt the faithful butler would have dined with his charge.

 

Tony  _ liked  _ the large gatherings as well. Meetings with the Avengers where they would fill the room and drink and laugh, smaller familial dinners with Pepper, Rhodey and Happy. Dinner with Pepper and Harley and now Peter warmed his heart ten fold. 

 

He, Tony  _ Stark,  _ was breaking the cycle and it couldn’t feel better. 

 

***

 

Pepper rightfully waited until after dinner, while Harley was assisting Peter with his bath, to badger Tony about that days meeting. 

 

“How’d the confrontation go?” She asked. She had done some of her own research about this ‘Vivian Waters’ and was already forming her own, not so high opinion of the girl. 

 

From what Pepper could gather, Vivian was a small time model living mostly off of her daddy’s trust fund and the states money she got through fostering. Surprise, surprise, Peter wasn’t her first charge.

 

“Oh the prick?” Tony asked. “Really friendly, we should get coffee together more often.” He stated sarcastically. 

 

“That bad?” Pepper asked, wincing. She had, for admittedly the first time in her life, hoped she would be wrong about the meetings turnout. Tony sighed and nodded.

 

“Long story short, Pep” he said “she’s going to make this as difficult for use as she possibly can.” Pepper internally groaned.

 

“And in the meantime?” She asked. 

 

“Peter stays here.” Tony decided. “She didn’t say anything about taking him back, only that she wouldn't allow me to adopt him. I think as long as she keeps getting the pay checks, she’ll let him stay here.” He finished. Pepper nodded, relieved that the toddler would at least be safe and comfortable and, most importantly, with his brother for the time being. 

 

“I should have recorded it, Pep.” Tony said, so softly that Pepper had to strain her ears to hear it. “I should have recorded that fucking converstion.” He said a bit louder, but still quiet enough to be a whisper.

 

“You were stressed, Tony.” Pepper assured him. “That’s not your fault.” 

 

“It is, though.” He insisted, shaking his head. His hands were clenched into fists, his back rigid with tension. “I should know better. It would have been helpful.” 

 

She knew Tony wasn’t telling her all that went in that coffee shop but decided it was better not to ask. 

 

“Maybe the beanery has a security tape?” She suggested. It wasn’t a bad idea, many places kept video record of the customers comings and goings. Tony seemed to think the same, as his head shot up.

 

“You, Mrs. Potts, are a genius.” He declared, face a little lighter, the tension in his shoulders a little less. 

 

“I’m just doing my job, Mr. Stark.” She smiled. He was just about to come to her, just about to lean in the few more inches that separate them and kiss her when tiny feet patted down in the hall and into the kitchen where the pair were cleaning up. 

 

Little Peter, in all his naked glory, was running down the hallway. The toddler didn’t seem to have a care about modesty, darting around the penthouse in his birthday suit. Not a moment later Harley came in, towel in hand and grinning.

 

“Sorry”, he said, smiling not at _ all  _ apologetically, “but he wanted you to help him.” 

 

The thought made Tony elated. Peter, this little, innocent toddler wanted  _ his  _ help? It must have meant he was doing  _ something  _ right, and that alone was a victory in Tony’s books. 

 

Peter, who was currently trying to shimmy up a barstool for ‘safety’ is giggling large smile plastered on his still wet face. His curls drip water into his eyes, though he doesn’t seem to mind. Tony takes the towel from Harley, turning back to Peter with a menacing grin.

 

“Come here you little spider!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was thinking back to the conversation last chapter and was considering how Tony would retell what happened in the coffee shop to Pepper. Taking Tony’s overall self depriving personality into consideration I don’t think he would tell Pepper what Vivian actually tried to get him to do. Not the specifics at least, especially because he and Pepper are currently dating.
> 
> I also wanted Peter temporarily in Tony’s care so that’s why Tony has ‘temporary guardianship’ and Vivian doesn’t have interest in attaining Peter immediately.
> 
> Also, and this saddens me to say, I am going away for a week and won’t be able to post until next Sunday. If there is by any chance a post this Sunday, consider yourselves special ;) Thanks for reading! Any and all comments are greatly appreciated :)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm soooo sorry for the wait.
> 
> I hope its length makes up for the delay.

Tony rolled over in bed. It felt more lonely tonight, than it had when Peter bad been with him. There was an empty spot next to him, even though the child much preferred to be on  _ top _ of him, leaving the thousand dollar sheets uncomfortably cold.

 

He sighed, staring up at the ceiling and wondering when he had become so softhearted. 

 

He supposed it started at that fundraiser event nearly three years ago, when the boys snark and creative inventions had caught the famous mechanics eye. 

 

He supposed it was when Harley had one the prize for first place, but there weren’t any parents in the audience to congratulate him, no dad to clasp him on the shoulder or mother to embarrass the boy by kissing him. There hadn’t even been any grandparents to pink his cheeks and coddle him. 

 

He supposed it could have been when the dreams started, and then continued, and he realized he wasn’t getting out of this ordeal as easily as he had hoped. Or though he had hoped. He was happy he hadn’t been able to escape the kid. Harley has grown on him like a questionable haircut. 

 

Whatever time it was that his heart had begun to thaw, Tony was sure that it had began with Harley and only intensified with Peter. The boys were too undeniably cute not to leave some sort of dent. It’s like they were changing who Tony was, molding him to a better, more loving person. Like they were sewing the man's heart to his sleeve. 

 

Those kids were really dampening his image. 

 

The alterations weren’t just cosmetic though, Tony could  _ feel _ the changes too. There was a warmth his heart whenever he saw the boys smile, or heard their laugh. An uplifting tingle when he did something he knew Howard would said made a man ‘weak’ but was sure would have his mother grinning approvingly. 

 

He felt it when he turned to his side and his  heat tightened at the empty spot beside him. 

 

It was ridiculous, absolutely  _ laughable _ . It wasn’t like Peter had been taken to Alaska, the kid was  _ right across the hall _ . He was sleeping in his own room, in his own bed, just like Pepper stressed  he do. She had been a real party pooper when she heard Tony’s plans of letting the kid bunk with him. She had rambled on and on about  _ ‘breaking barriers _ and  _ habits _ and dependency and  _ separation anxiety’.  _

 

Bullshit if you asked Tony. 

 

Still, even knowing his concern and sorrow was in vain, he lay there and strained his ears to listen for the pitter-patter of little feet on the hardwood. 

 

There was none.

 

Not for five minutes, or ten minutes, or an hour. And Tony was really starting to think that the kid wasn’t as invested as himself, and had long since fallen asleep. Maybe Tony wasn’t as much the kids hero as he had thought he was. 

 

It was self deprecating, yes, but a reasonable thought. Tony had been giving himself too much credit, applauding himself before anything was done or finalized. Counting his eggs before they hatched, naming the baby turtles before they reached the ocean. 

 

He traced his fingers along the chilled sheets and considered how they might always stay empty. How him and Pepper might never get  _ that  _ serious and how maybe Peter was more grown up than Tony had thought. He considers this, a life sleeping alone because there is no one who wants to fill the sheets, to sleep beside him. 

 

It is with that thought, that he falls asleep.

 

It’s some hours later when Tony feels the silk sheets begin to slip from the bed. He’d been sleeping quite restlessly, tossing and turning and never really submitting to unconsciousness. It must have been all the turning that had pushed his sheets off the edge.

 

He tugged them back, wrapping them around his shoulders and snuggling further into the fabric. Rolling over, he sees it’s nearly two in the morning. Still, that’s only forty five minutes from when he first allowed himself to close his eyes. 

 

He relaxes again, getting ready for another bout of trying to coax his body to sleep when the blanket moves again. It’s then that Tony realizes they aren’t slipping, they’re being  _ pulled.  _

 

It panics him at first, being who he is and having his blankets removed in the early hours of the morning probably isn’t a  _ good  _ thing. It’s after he quickly reasons with himself, that Tony huffs a shirt chuckle. 

 

The blankets are being tugged  _ down _ which means that whoever is pulling them is either trying to nap on his floor, or are really short. Someone who fits the second of the criteria comes to mind. 

 

“Pete?” He called.

 

The resistance on the sheets stop and for a moment, Tony is afraid he scared the boy.

 

“Mr. Stark?” The perp asked. Who, just as Tony had thought, is Peter.

 

“The one and only, what’s up kid?”

 

“Duh, duh mom’sters are comin’.” Peter whined, standing on his tiptoes, face inches away from Tony’s own. Tony sat up, the monsters? 

 

“What monsters, Pete?” He asked, flicking on the light beside his bed. Light flooded the room, illuminating Peter’s baby face and allowing Tony to see the kids fearful. wide eyes.

 

“Duh mom’sters unda’ the bed.” Peter said, nearly rolling his eyes at the obviousness of the situation. Tony hesitated, something he found himself doing quite often when it came to children. He wasn’t sure how to handle this, did he tell the kid that monsters aren't real? That everything was safe in the Penthouse and Peter didn’t have to worry? Probably. That definitely what any other, well prepared parent would do, thats certainly what  _ Pepper  _ would do. 

 

Tony’s  _ definitely  _ not Pepper.

 

No, Tony was selfish, self deprecating, lonely and cold. The sheets behind him only seemed to grow more and more empty as time ticked on and, honestly, screw following the parenting books. 

 

“Do you want to sleep in here, Pete?” He asked instead. Which, in his books, was a  _ much  _ better alternative. “I’ll keep you safe from the monsters under the bed.” Tony held out his arms, inviting the toddler to be pulled onto the warm mattress.

 

“Uh-huh!” Peter smiled. “Cuz’ your a supa’ hero!” He exclaimed happily as Tony pulled up.

 

“That’s right kiddo, your a big Iron Man fan.” Tony replied grinning as he situated Peter into his side. Peter wasted no time in shaking his head, curls flying and bouncing at the movement. Tony couldn’t deny the pure  _ hurt  _ that he felt at seeing Peter deny his greatest invention, at watching this toddler,  _ Tony’s  _ toddler, deny the assumption.

 

“Not him, silly!” Peter corrected, still smiling and giddy despite Tony’s hurt feelings. “ _ Your  _ gonna p’otect me!” 

 

And if  _ that _ didn’t make Tony’s heart swell, then it must have been made of stone.

 

“Oh, Bambino.” Tony swooned, squishing the boy in a bone crushing hug. 

 

They stayed that way for some time, Tony laying with Peters small form buried into his chest. The warmth was comforting, making up for those long hours he had previously been forced to endure by himself. He carded a hand through Peters soft curls, still slightly damp from his pre-bed bath and hummed an old Italian lullaby, a memory from his mom if he remembered correctly. 

 

Long after Tony could have sworn that Peter was fast asleep, and when the man was nearly there himself, the boy spoke; voice soft and coated with sleep.

 

“What’s Babimo mean?” He asked around the thumb in his mouth, kicking his leg out into a more comfortable position. Tony was surprised, and snorted at the attempt at the name. 

 

“ _ Bambino,  _ Peter.” He softly corrected. “It means ‘baby boy’.” 

 

It was something Tony’s mother had called him, when he was still young enough to be considered one and before his father deemed the “babyish” title inappropriate. Tony had enjoyed the nickname and was sad when it was taken away from him. Still, even after his father had declared it ‘forbidden’ his mother had always been sure to make good use of the term when his father was at a meeting or away on a business trip. When he had used it to refer to Peter, it had escaped before he could think, like second nature.   

 

“I called you that because your my baby boy.” He explained.

 

“A’e you gonna uh-opt us?” Peter asked. Tony’s hand stilled, causing Peter to look up at him at the sudden stop to the soothing motions. His deep brown eyes were big and wide, shining in the dark as they bore holes into Tony’s own.

 

By the statement, it was obvious that Peter didn’t know that Harley had already been adopted, or that Tony was already in the process of trying to gain custody over Peter. But, then again, this wasn’t a conversation that they already had and Tony was completely unaware of where Peters four year old knowledge of the system stood. It would be a much better thing to leave for Pepper to explain, or even Harley. But Peter hadn;t gone to them with this, he had come to Tony, and the man didn’t have the strength to deny the boy the right of knowing his own future.

 

But then, another possibility crossed Tony’s mind: Did Peter even want to be adopted by him? He hoped so, God, he hoped so. But if the kid by chance,  _ didn’t  _ want to, then it wouldn’t,  _ shouldn’t  _ be Tony’s place to make that decision for him.

 

“Do you want me to?” He asked carefully, chest tight as he waited for the answer.

 

“Yes, yes, yes!” Peter cheered, scurrying up and whipping around to face Tony. The man grunted when he got a very small and very bony knee to the ribs.

 

 “Let’s go! Uh-dopt us now!” Peter demanded, grabbing at Tonys arm and attempting to tug him to the edge of the bed. 

 

“We can’t do it right now, Pete, it's the middle of the night!” Tony laughed, smiling like a maniacal clown, chest light with cheer and pure happiness.  _ Peter wanted to be adopted, wanted to be adopted by  _ Tony Stark  _ of all people.  _

 

“But we gotta!” Peter insisted, a whine sneaking into his tone. He was overtired, something that even tony knew didn’t mix well with small children. He had seen kids misbehave in public before, witness the small horror show that parents called ‘tantrums’.

 

“It’s three in the morning, bud.” Tony coaxed, pulled the boy back into his side and trying to lay him down. “It can wait.”  _ No it absolutely could  _ not. If Tony could adopt Peter right this very second, he would be down at the courthouse in a heartbeat, bed times be damned.

 

“Mistah Sta-ark.” Peter moaned. Tossing under the covers as he struggled to find his way out of them. 

 

“Tell you what, kiddo: How about we go to bed now and in the morning,  _ after the sun comes up _ , you, Harls and I will make pancakes for breakfast?” He waited in silence, scared the kid was going to scream or burst into tears or do  _ something  _ that would raise Tony’s stress levels, but instead, he was met with a quiet:

 

“Wif choco-chips?”

 

Tony laughed. “Sure, bud. With chocolate chips.”

 

***

 

_ -The court date is scheduled for tomorrow.-  _

 

Tony squinted at the phone, the room still dark, the tinted windows blocking the sunlight from outside.

 

Pepper had texted him, the buzzing of the phone against the wood of his bedside waking him and causing Peter to stir. He reads the message, heart picking up as the reality of the statement hits him full force. 

 

_ Tomorrow,  _ as in,  _ twenty-four  _ hours. 

 

He could win or lose  _ everything  _ at that hearing and he pitied Pepper for having to do the worst of it all. She was doing the dirty work, preparing the details of everything while he sat on the side lines and ‘played’ with the boys. He would owe her a lot for this. Although, if they won, a dept such as that would be non-repayable. 

 

“Mistah Stark?” Peter asked as he stumbled to his hands and knees. “S’it mornin’ yet?” Peter’s curls fell into his face, his eyes bleary and closing with sleep. It was quite obvious the kids body was  _ not  _ as ready to wake up as his mind was.

 

“Yeah, bud. It’s morning.” Tony answered. “Do you want to go wake up, Harls?” He asked, menacingly. Peter nodded, reaching out his arms as he asked to be picked up. Tony obliged, of course, and began to bring the boy down the hall to his older brother’s room.

 

As soon as the pair crossed the threshold of the door frame, it was like a switch had been flicked in Peter. The moment the kid laid eyes on the sleeping form of his big brother, he became a squirmy, wriggling mess in Tony’s arms. He shimmied himself out of Tony’s arms and onto the floor, taking a large breath and moving to run. And Harley, who used to wake up at the slightest of noises, continued to sleep unsuspecting.

 

The kid leapt, a flying bundle of small limbs and giggles soared onto Harley’s once peacefully sleeping form. The older boy startled, scrambling to sit up and check his surroundings, nearly knocking Peter off in the process. His fast breaths turned to snorting laughs when he realized the reason for his rude awakening. 

 

“Pete!” He scolded, laughing all the same. “That’s as rude!” He smiled. 

 

“It was  _ funny! _ ” Peter giggled. 

 

“Do you know what your just earned yourself?” Harley threatened, hands raising menacingly. The shit eating grin on the teens face told Tony this wasn’t going to involve any  _ real _ harm. Not that Harley would  _ ever  _ in a million years harm Peter.

 

Whatever it is that’s coming, Peter must have been completely informed and not at all on board as he hurried to slip away. Harley however, much bigger and  _ much  _ more coordinated than the smaller of the two, grabbed the toddler and hauled him back onto the bed. 

 

“The tickle monster!” Harley howled, fingers jabbing at the boys armpits and tasing his sides. Peter writhed, giggling and squealing at the action. Both boys are laughing at their antics and Tony swore that it was the best sound he’d ever heard. 

 

Of all the things that Tony was proud of, his famous pancakes were pretty high on that list. The recipe was initially something that he had found on-line and, after many times of making a batch for Rhodey and Pepper, he had modified some of the measurements and added chocolate chips to get ‘the perfect pancake’. 

 

Peter and Harley approved of them immediately. 

 

“Mi’er Sta’k, dese a’e sooo ‘good!” Peter exclaimed around a mouth full of pancakes. He didn’t so much care for the bacon, Tony noticed, as it lay discarded on the side of Peters plate. The boy eagerly went between shoveling mouthfuls of chocolatey pancakes and drinking from his sippy cup of milk.

 

Harley on the other hand, was more a meat eater than his brother and had already refilled his portion of bacon. Not that Tony minded that, of course. 

 

“Thanks, Pete.” Tony laughed, ruffling the boys hair. Both Harley and Peter smiled at the action. “So kiddos,” he started, “we have to run some errands today.” 

 

Actually, all they really needed to do was go suit shopping for the trial tomorrow and swing by the grocery store to pick up some more ‘Peter friendly’ snacks. If Tony had planned better, something that was quite a rarity, they would have scheduled a fitting for the suits days before, a week preferably: It took time for the tailors to customize the fit and, believe it or not, Tony actually  _ disliked  _ using his money to make things easier. But, things were what they were, they would have to make do with the time schedule they were stuck on.

 

“Whats a….. Eh-- air-and?” Peter asked, taking his time to carefully work his way through the pronunciation of the word.

 

“It’s when you have to go and do something that needs to get done.” Harley explains. “Not like  going to the park but more like when we have to get refills on your inhaler.” The teen offers.

 

Tony holds his breath. He knows that little kids would much rather spend their day frolicking around the playsets at the park and that if they didn’t get their ways they could be very… vocal about it. He was already aware that Peter was better behaved than most, but it was better to assume the worst, right?

 

To Tony’s relief, Peter  _ smiled. _ And said:

 

“As long as it’s all us togetha’.” 

  
Damn these kids, they were starting to make Tony  _ feel things _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure: I didn't proof read this chapter, like, at all. It has no plot, hardly any Harley and is three days later than the already late date I promised you guys. I'm so, so sorry about that.
> 
> If you're still around, thank you so, so much! 
> 
> From here on out, there will be a better (but still not equal) balance of fluff and plot and I WILL be returning to the usual updating schedule of every Wednesday and Sunday. Thank you all for your patience!
> 
> Till next time :)


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pepper calls Tony with some very worrisome news. 
> 
> There’s an incident with the boys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe, don’t hate me after this one.

Soon after breakfast, Pepper called. Tony had a certain wrong tone for her, a soft piece form the piano that they had -attempted- to play together on their first official date. It was one of his favorite sounds, following up in Harley and Peter’s laughs. 

 

He finished using a baby wipe to clean off Peter’s incredibly sticky hands before he answered, on his phone rather than through F.R.I.D.A.Y. since he had seen the incoming call as being rather personal. 

 

Harley gave him a quick glance as Tony was leaving the room, bringing his phone to his ear. 

 

“Ms. Pott, what a pleasure.” He greeted, going back to his bedroom so he could prepare himself for the day as he spoke. 

 

“Not the time, Tony.” She scolded. “I just got notice that the court time was moved up to eleven tomorrow morning.” 

 

“That's good news, right?” Tony asked, shuffling through his drawers for a comfortable shirt. He didn’t see why an earlier time slot would be anything  _ but  _ good, the sooner they were in and out of that courthouse the better. 

 

“I suppose.” Pepper sighed. “But it also means less time to prepare and when the judge moves your time up, it can mean one of two things.” She warns.

 

“Let me guess,” Tony says, “one of these things is bad?” Of course it was bad, there’s  _ always  _ something bad. 

 

“Well, it could be as harmless as another case was canceled or moved to a later date and therefore ours was moved up.” She said.

 

“Or…..” Tony pushed. 

 

“Or it could mean that the judge had already made up their mind and simply wants to get the case over with. Which, could be good or bad unless Vivian requested an earlier time hoping to catch us off guard and the judge took her side and agreed.” She rushed, saying faster almost in good that speed would decrease Tony’s chances of hearing.

 

“That’s one of three things, Pep.” Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Two of which are bad.”

 

“I was trying to be optimistic.” She said, annoyed. Tony had to give her that one, this was a difficult situation to be optimistic, and Pepper was doing a pretty damn great job. Especially when Tony wasn’t making it any easier for her. 

 

“What can we do?” Tony asked.

 

“Besides being as prepared as possible and making sure the boys are one hundred percent one board? Nothing.” She sighed before continuing. “But I wasn’t calling just because of that, I wanted to check the email I just sent to your laptop. I checked the coffee shops surveillance Tony, there’s an issue with it.” 

 

Immediate alarm bells begin in Tony, issues? What kind of issues? 

 

“What issues are we talking about, Pep?” He asked as he pulled his laptop from his nightstand and logged in. He sat on the bed, covers still messed up from him and Peter sleeping there. 

 

“It’s been tampered with, it must have been by Vivian but we don’t have any evidence to prove that.” She said. Sure enough, as Tony opened his email and clicked on the attached file, the video feed plays but the audio cuts out just moments after Tony and Vivian shake hands.

 

“What about the traffic cams?” Tony asked, remembering how their conversation continued outside the shop. The more important things had been said there anyway. “Or does the shop have any store front cameras?” He asked hopefully. 

 

“The only visual surveillance in the beanery is the one your looking at right now.” Pepper confirms. “I checked the traffic camera already, you guys are barely in the frame and your conversation can’t be heard over the traffic.”

 

Tony groans, resting his head in his hands and gripping his hair. This is  _ not good.  _ Without the audio they won’t have any proof that Vivian  _ actually  _ said what she said. 

 

“What about the boys?” He asked, hopeful again. “They came around near the end, if they overheard, could they be witnesses?” 

 

“It’s not that kind of trial, Tony.” Pepper informed. “We’re not attempting to put anyone away. Besides, they’re both too young to have their words taken seriously.” 

 

“So what does this mean?” Tony asked.

 

“That we don’t have any evidence.” Pepper said. “And that you better be god damn sure these kids our on their puppy dog eyes.”

 

Well  _ fuck. _

  
  


***

  
  


Bringing previously abused children to a suit fitting was not an event Tony ever wanted to live through again. 

 

They arrived at their appointment a good fifteen minutes after the scheduled time, not as if that was something new for Tony, but were able to be helped immediately. It wasn’t until the boys were finally changed into the correct attire and placed upon the raised platforms, that Tony realized that Peter and Harley had absolutely no idea what a suit fitting was. 

 

Harley had gone first, standing stiff and ramrod straight, so much so that if Tony hadn’t known better, he would have assumed the boys spine had been surgically fused. It was obvious that Harley was extremely uncomfortable with strangers in such close proximity to his… well, everything. 

 

Still, even in his extreme discomfort, the kid didn’t complain. It was fascinating to Tony, really to see how much Harley absolutely contrasted with the mommy blogs. All those warnings about the dangers of adopting kids in puberty and ‘teen rebellion’ didn’t seem to apply to Harley. The kid was so complacent it almost  _ worried  _ Tony. Still, the man didn’t say anything, he didn’t think that he should be complaining.

 

For the first ten or fifteen minutes Harley space was pinched and the boy was near tears. After that, after he pushed through the first  _ really  _ uncomfortable bit, he seemed to calm down. Or, Tony hoped he was calming down and not just cooling his expression. 

 

Nevertheless, the process ended rather painlessly. Which was a Godsend considering that when Peter's turn came along, all hell broke loose. 

 

Apparently, the kid hadn’t been paying enough attention and was completely unaware that he would have to go through the exact same procedure that his big brother had just endured. Peter was completely fine watching and was calm and collected as Tony led him to the pedestal. It was when Tony tried to leave and the tailor approached that the toddler began to scream bloody murder. 

 

It was pretty out of the blue and shocked Tony to his core, he had never heard a child scream like  _ that  _ and never Peter. The boy was emitting loud, ear splitting,  _ heart wrenching  _ sobs. As if his safety was being seriously threatened, or his life. In all fairness, the toddler probably thought that to be the case. Tony should have been more considerate of his past. 

 

Harley jumped into action immediately, switching to big brother mode at a moments notice. He surged forward, and would have barreled over the tailor if the poor worker hadn’t been quick to move out of the way. 

 

“Peter.” He said, taking the screaming boy into his arms, seemingly unbothered by the sound. “Peter, bud.” Harley soothed. “It’s okay, your okay. I’m right here, I’ve got you.” 

 

Peter stilled screamed, if a little quieter, as he held onto Harley with a death grip.

 

“Breath Peter, breath.” He calmed again, rubbing soothing circles on the boys tiny back. “I’m sorry, you won’t have to do that again.” He shit Tony a glee at this, a look of warning. As if to say:  _ try and make him do it again and we’ll see what happens. _ It made Tony proud to see Harley’s protectiveness, if a bit angry that the kid was looking that way at his  _ dad. _

 

Peter’s crying slowed down to hiccups and sniffles before his breathing became more labored again and he erupted into harsh coughs. Harley bounces the boy, shushing him and reaching in his pocket to retrieve something, supposedly a toy to cheer the boy up. It wasn’t, but instead an inhaler and an old soother that looked like it was older than Peter himself. Tony hoped it was clean, though Peter didn't seem to mind and accepted it eagerly.

 

It was odd, since Harley had been complaining about Peters thumb sucking habit not two nights before. He supposed there were lines you were more willing to cross when there was a screaming toddler involved. 

 

It was annoying though, that it was Harley, the barely rene brother who was prepared for the breakdown and not to the soon to be -and much older- father. 

 

Still, as he wrapped up the appointment -if a little embarrassingly- and paid quite a bit more than just the price of Harley’s fitting, Tony couldn’t help but to steal glances at the…. no,  _ his _ kids. Peter had his head rested upon Harley shoulder, finally calming down and starting to submit to exhaustion while Harley continued to sway with the boy in his arms, despite the teens own small nature. 

 

If he kept it up, Harley was going to gain muscles from carrying that kid around. Not like he  _ should  _ always be carrying the kid around. It was cute and all, but that was a job for a parent, not a big brother. Besides, Peter was probably developing an even more severe form of separation anxiety than he had before  _ on top  _ of the bad co-sleeping habit Tony had started and now the soother… Perhaps Tony should look into hiring some help. 

 

**-The appointment was cut short-** Tony texted Pepper as the three left and piled into Happy’s preferred car. No one had spoken yet, a tense silence spread throughout the vehicle. 

 

He hadn’t said anything about Peter’s, somewhat warranted, freak out or the fact that the boy was leaving without so much as even a tie. There would be room for that later. Tony didn’t want to draw attention to an event that couldn’t have been prevented. 

 

He still felt terrible, as if it was his fault Pete had been so terrified by the process. He should have thought about that before hand, considered the kids’ pasts before taking them to something intimate and nerve racking as a suit fitting with complete strangers. How many times had he been going to these all throughout his childhood and well into adulthood? He knew  _ exactly  _ what a fitting entailed. 

 

Harley was probably mad at him now, maybe furious or wary. Perhaps Tony had just set them back to square one and on the day before their court date… 

 

What if Peter didn’t want to be adopted anymore? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo..... that happened.
> 
> I feel mean? Maybe just angsty. 
> 
> I mean, I didn’t kill or injure anyone this time so that’s good.... Ignoring the asthma attack. 
> 
> Anyway:  
> The next chapter is going to jump straight into court and we’re going to see where everything that has happened this chapter has left Tony...
> 
> I guess I’m just telling y’all to be prepared. 
> 
> Anyway thanks for reading! See y’all Wednesday :)


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its finally time for the adoption hearing...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry for the super late update. I've been swarmed lately and the semester just started so that means classes and exams :'/ and I wanted this to be good sooooo, with the disclaimer that I know jack shit about laws and how court works: I give you the final chapter!

The courthouse was quiet, eerily quiet. It was ten minutes until the start of their hearing, hearts were beating fast and the coolness of the oncoming autumn was doing nothing to ease Tony’s stress induced sweat. It had been foggy that moring, chilly and the sky was threatening to pour rain down onto grimmy Manhattan. The dreariness of the day did nothing to heighten Tony’s hope.

 

The boys had been quiet and distant since the previous days suit fitting, something that severely worried Tony. If there was a chance that Peter no longer wanted to be adopted, he would have to go with Vivian, someone who had no place in her home or her heart for a boy as special and deserving as Peter. For someone as  _ small _ and  _ innocent _ as that young boy Tony had come to love. Failure to adopt Peter would also result in separating the boys, something that would be Tony’s fault, since he had so abruptly adopted Harley and then proceeded to deter Peter. 

 

_ ‘He hasn’t said he doesn’t want to be adopted.’  _ Tony had to remind himself. ‘ _ At least he hadn’t  _ yet.’ 

 

It was hard for him to stop thinking negatively. 

 

Pepper had shown up, as promised, and was sitting in the front row. Even with both Tony and Pepper on the job, the two hadn’t been able to find any evidence to prove that Vivian had tampered with the surveillance. Although, there was no doubt in Tony’s mind that she  _ had. _ Still, without the evidence, there was nothing that could be done about proving that she had harassed him and attempted to seduce him before practically threatening the man.

 

It was infuriating but, as Pepper had so helpfully said; there was nothing that could be done to change reality. 

 

 There was a small crowd for an audience besides Pepper, Tony’s closer friends, like Rhodey and Happy and some of Vivian’s stuck up supporters, all of which looked just as nasty and two faced as the woman herself. Peter’s social worker, Bill, was there as well, this being the first time that Tony had met the surprisingly tolerable man. He was young, obviously inexperienced, but it seemed to Tony that the man actually  _ did _ have Peters best interest at heart. Apparently the situation regarding Peter being pulled from the boys home had been the home’s workers blindsighted the man, and he hadn’t any idea of their true intentions. The man was  _ very _ different than Harley’s social worker had been.

 

As the clock ticked closer to the golden hour, Tony began to feel impossibly more and more nervous. He was doubting himself now, spiraling. If, God forbid, he  _ lost  _ against Vivian, he would have to live with himself knowing that Peter was suffering the neglectful hands of that horrid creature. If he were being honest, Tony wasn’t sure if he  _ would  _ be able to live with himself.

 

He would still have Harely then too. He would have to wake up every morning and see the face of a lost boy who he had  _ failed _ . He would have to look at Peter too, since the resemblance between the boys was clearly visible. Losing Peter wouldn’t just be like losing a small orphaned toddler that he had met not a week ago, losing Peter would be like losing a  _ son _ , like losing a part of Tony  _ himself _ .  

 

Tony took a deep breath to try and calm his racing heart. ‘ _ Things would be alright’, _ he tried to tell himself. After all, there was _ no way _ the judge could be as blind as to let Peter leave with Vivian. Tony couldn’t understand how it was possible for anyone to be that blind.

 

Judge Harrison proved him wrong.

 

“I understand that for the past week, Peter Parker had been in your care, Mr. Stark? Even though the state placed him under the guardianship of Ms. Waters?” Harrison asked, eyes narrowed accusingly. 

 

“Yes, your honor. Only after Harley paid Ms. Waters a visit and saw her neglect for Peter.” 

 

“And Mr. Stark, is it true that you took the boy into your home for a  _ week _ without the proper paperwork allowing you to do so?” The judge asked, Vivians lips quirked upwards.

 

“Yes, you honor. But Ms. Waters and I had a verbal agreement that Peter was to be in my care until the trial.” 

 

“Can you or Ms. Waters provide any evidence of this agreement?” Harrison asked. “Perhaps an audio recording?” Tony’s heart fell, he had been hoping the judge would have just taken his word.

 

“No, your honor.” Tony sighed. He knew he had violated a major law, that Vivian’s denial of their verbal truce would demolish his chances of adopting Peter and could possibly even send him to  _ jail. _

 

“And are you aware of the repercussions for the multiple crimes you have committed?” Harrison asked. Tony stayed silent, the irrational part of his brain thinking that perhaps, if he stayed silent for long enough, the judge would forget about the matter and call the entire hearing off.

 

“Mr. Judge, sir?” Cut a tiny voice through the dense silence. Peter. The boy had hopped down from his seat to stand in front of the stand. He clenched his bear tightly in his arms. 

 

“Go back to your seat, bambino.” Tony pleaded, hoping that Peter’s interruption wouldn’t make matters any worse. 

 

“But-”

 

“Now, please.” Tony said again, a little more firmly this time. Peter nodded, head dipped to the floor pathetically as he dragged his feet back to Harley. Tony raised his head to face the judge once more when a scratchy audio tape filled the courtroom. 

 

_ “No bed, no boy, Mr. Stark.” _ Came Vivians sickening sweet voice from inside the bear. ‘ _ Harley’s invention’ _ , Tony thought as he smiled.  _ “Now I’m going to ask you one last time, are you going to give me a special little something in return?”  _

 

_ “No.”  _ Came Tony’s stern answer. _ “I’m hoping you’ll do the right thing for the kids. For Peter.” _

 

The judges eyes widened with Vivian’s her mouth opening and closing like that of a fish’s.

 

“W-what.” She stuttered. “That doesn’t prove anything! There’s still no proof of this supposed verbal agreement.” She screeched furiously. “And he had  _ no  _ right to record me without my consent.” She said waving a finger at Peter. The boy rushed back to Harley’s arms. 

 

“No Ms. Waters the judge agreed, still getting over the shock of the new development. “But it does change things a little. Tell me ma'am, where were you at the time of that recording?”

 

“On the street in front of the coffee shop by central park but I don’t understand how that has any relevance-”

 

“So you admit to being both on public property and in the view of traffic cameras during that time?”

 

Vivian paled.

  
“Yes, your honor.” 

 

“Very well then.” 

 

“I have heard of your concerns about Peter being in Ms. Waters care but, Mr. Stark, do you believe that  _ you _ could provide for Peter properly?” Judge Harrison asked, eyebrows raised skeptically and critically. Tony nodded immediately. 

 

“Absolutely, money will never be an issue, anything that boy needs he’ll get.” He assured. “And I’ll always be there for him, should he ever need comfort. I would say we’ve done pretty well in that area this past week.” Tony said, glancing at the boys to throw them a small smile. His spirits lifted slightly when he thought he saw Peter smirk back at him.

 

“And what about a mother figure for the boy? Harrison asked. “Statistics prove children raised in homes with two parental figures struggle less further down the road.” Tony’s nostrils flared with anger at the comment, it wasn’t something the judge had asked Vivian, it was something aimed solely at  _ Tony _ . He understood the angle of an outsider, someone who remembered Tony’s not so distance playboy years. Still, Tony had changed, and he liked to pride himself on how far he had come with Harley these last however-many months. 

 

“I assure you that Peter would be well cared for with me.” Tony asll but sneered. “And if he should ever need someone besides me to lean on, he has Harley and Pepper, both of whom I’m absolutely  _ positive  _ would be willing to take that position.” The judge starred at Tony a moment, before simply nodding and moving on.

 

Tony wasn’t very appreciative of the man's skepticism. It's not that judge Harrison was being overly unfair, just a bit sexist and judgmental. If anything, Harrisons hesitation to side with Tony and the boys was  _ aggravating _ more than anything else. 

 

“Very well then, I believe Mr. Harely Parker wanted to testify?” He asked, turning towards the teen who had been sitting silently in the front row. Tony looked for a script or piece of paper in the boys hands and saw nothing. This must have been a last minute decision.

 

A decision made after everything that had happened yesterday. 

 

Tony gulped. 

 

Harley rose from his seat and walked to stand in front of the judge. Harrison welcomed him to the stand and let the boy take a seat behind the microphone. The teen wasn’t anxiously wringing his hands, Tony noticed, which meant that whatever Harley was about to say, he wasn’t nervous for. 

 

“Three years ago, a plane crashed into the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.” He began, voice soft but confident. “Peter and I had been at home, left to our own devices while our mother traveled for business with her new boyfriend. At the time, I was glad that they had gone. Mom was always wrapped up in her work as it was and with RIchard around… it only got worse. They were both scientists, working on something new, I don’t quite remember what, and they had to travel to Europe to present their findings to their employer. RIchard hadn’t been the nicest of mom’s romances, abusive even, so I was relieved when they had left but man, when I heard the news, when I heard mom died, everything changed. 

 

I had been left alone with Peter for the week, something pretty regular at the time, and it took CPS two weeks to figure out mom had kids. By the time they got to us we were low on food, worried, and Peter had caught his first round of pneumonia. They took him to the hospital and brought me to an overcrowded, understaffed orphanage. They seperated us on the first night.”

 

Harley took a deep breath, eyes stinging from the emotional memory. Tony had to restrain himself from moving to comfort the boy. 

 

“Mom wasn’t the best parent out there, she wasn’t around much, if at all and she slept around a lot, but I always knew that there was some small place in her heart for Peter and I. Having her around was like a lock on the back door, a security I had come to take for granted. When mom was around,  _ yes, _ Peter and I were often alone but we were  _ together  _ and that’s all that ever really seemed to matter. 

 

After they separated Peter and I, we didn’t see each other again until over a year later.” Tony’s eyes widened, that wasn’t something he had known. “During that time I had bounced from abusive home to abusive home and had practically given up hope of ever seeing my little brother again. There was no reason to believe that I would. After all, there hadn’t been any word of him.” Harley lowered his voice, wiping a tear from his eye before whispering: “For all I knew, my baby brother was dead.”

 

Tony’s heart clenched.

 

“About fifteen months later,I was put into a boy’s group home in Queens. The kids there weren’t very nice and were mostly older than me. They didn’t want anything to do with me and always brown nosed the workers, except for this one little boy.” Harley said, grinning in Peter’s direction. “There was this little baby, a kid that couldn’t have even been two yet and was already a chatty cathy. The moment I saw his face I knew it was Peter. He was bigger, he had grown a lot and looked a lot more like mom, but I couldn’t have been more sure that it was my little brother.” Harley choked on his tears.

 

“The boys home was worse than moms neglect had ever been, way worse. Sometimes I thought it was even worse than some of the abusive homes I had been in. The things they did to Peter…. I had started losing hope again, I started  to wonder if I would even be able to force myself to make it to eighteen so I could finally make a family for ourselves again. THere was nothing that Peter or I wanted more than to have a family all to ourselves, to have someone else to say ‘goodnight’ and ‘I love you’ to. But still, the days passed and nothing changed. I had given up hope completely when Peter was pulled from the boys home, I thought I had lost him again, perhaps forever this time ...” Harley smirked, laughing before looking up through his bangs, right into the eyes of the billionaire before him. “That was at least, until Tony came along.”

 

“Ugh, Tony had been so annoyingly  _ persistent  _ after we had first met.” Harley complained, causing Tony’s heart to squeeze in worry. “He wanted me to come work in the lab with him, he had wanted to help me after the fire. After a lifetime of being ignored and tricked, the last thing I wanted to do was trust a near stranger with my life. But I did, because I hoped, by some miracle, that it would lead me to Peter. That maybe this time I could  _ finally  _ find that long lost family member.”

 

Harley wiped his eyes again, clearing his throat before he continued. 

 

“Turns out, that was the best decision I’ve ever made. Tony’s the  _ fucking best _ . The way he looks at both Peter  _ and _ me… its a dream come true.  _ I love you, Tony _ .”  

 

That was what it took for Tony’s resolve to break. Those three simple words, those magical words, brought all the mans carefully constructed walls tumbling down. The floodgates opened and the genius couldn’t take it a second longer. As the teen was getting up, Tony rushed forward and scooped Harley into his arms, surrounding the boy in an embrace of strong and loving arms. 

 

“I love you too, soldato.” Tony whispered. The Italian word for soldier, a title the boy had definitely deserved. 

 

There was a minute of silence in the courthouse before the crowd behind them erupted with applause and cheers for the scene in front of them. Judge Harrison smiled from his position at the head of the room. 

 

“Well Mr. Stark, Mr. Parker, after everything we’ve heard here today and, In the best interest of the child, I hereby declare Anthony Edward Stark as the new guardian of one Peter Parker.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, what a journey this has been! Thank you to everyone who read and stayed along until the very end and extra thanks to all y'all who commented and gave kudos, it means a lot to me :) That said, this is going to be a series, with mostly one shots following (hopefully in some type of chronological order) so be aware of those in the future. I have some ideas lined up but if you guys want to shout any of your own requests find me on tumbler @solar_celeste and I'll do my best to take them into consideration and get back to you!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, 
> 
> Tags are important, let me know if I missed any!
> 
> Make my day on tumblr!
> 
> Any ideas or friendly critiques? 
> 
> Comments are my coffee :,)


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